Nothing Much to Lose
by SLWalker
Summary: A strange tale of four young men on a mission to change history, and to save those close to them in the meantime. A Horatio HornblowerTitanic crossover. (Updated: 122103)
1. Prologue

**_Nothing Much to Lose_**  
  
By: Karen Walker (Serris) & Stephanie Watson (SLWatson)  
  


Disclaimers: Horatio and Archie, along with any other HH character, are owned by A&E. God help them. Everyone who isn't belongs to history.  
  
Notes: Raise your hands if you didn't like the end of Retribution! That many? Okay, now raise your hands if you didn't like the end of Titanic! No, not you DiCaprio fans... I mean, people who didn't like what happened in history, or just you Ioan fans out there who think he should have gotten more screentime.  
  
Well, this is an ambitious project where we take and do a little creative rethinking of both. Now before you scream, bear in mind that all of this is just wishful thinking and the occasional bit of silliness tossed in. As in, we're not disrespecting our gents from the _Titanic_, but this story wouldn't let us sleep until we started it, and won't let us quit now. A lot of historical research has gone into both halves of it, and we can only hope we got it right.  
  
Not to mention, The Coffee (see Friendship, Courage and Coffee by Serris for more details) makes an appearance. So kick back, have a laugh or two, and most of all, try to enjoy. This story is best read in _Times New Roman_. Seriously.  


  
---------------------------  
  
**Prologue**  
  
---------------------------  
  
  
Harold Lowe and James Moody were sailors. They were, in fact, the junior most officers of the White Star Line's newest ship, the _RMS Titanic_ -- Fifth and Sixth, respectively. Lowe was the older of the pair, a man of twenty-nine from Wales, whose life had been one of a good deal of adventure. He lived aboard which ship he was assigned to, having gone to sea at the age of fourteen, and the ocean was far more his home than the land.  
  
Moody, on the other hand, had been raised with the best of training, having attended the King Edward VII Nautical School in London. He was only twenty-four, serving aboard the _Oceanic_ before this particular assignment. He certainly didn't live up to his name, for there was rarely anything moody about him -- if anything, James was usually quick with a joke and nearly always in good humor.  
  
So there they were, the juniors of the ship. What's more, they were fast friends.  
  
It isn't so unlikely -- sailors have so little time to make connections on land or at sea at those ranks, for they don't often have enough seniority to pick and choose their assignments, nor do they get extended leaves on shore. But Lowe and Moody were friends by the time that the _Titanic_ left from Belfast to Southampton, and near best friends after the first few days out on the grand mail steamer.  
  
Much against the laws of probability, there were once true friends in near a moment before the two of the _Titanic_. Years before there were steamships, motor cars, and telegraphs, there was a much simpler life of an officer aboard a sailing ship. Such vessels were not unheard of in Lowe and Moody's times, but they were the only form of transportation on water for the young friends that lived there, and certainly the only defense against another country during an ocean-bound battle.  
  
Horatio Hornblower was a promising young sailor, just promoted from midshipman to lieutenant and moved to a new ship not long after. He was only twenty-four, and had rose quickly to his spot as Third Lieutenant aboard the _Renown_. Having started his career at nineteen, he was afflicted with seasickness, but had a strong will and the brains to make up for his shortcomings.  
  
Across from him was a man of much more experience, but was still one year younger than Horatio, and one rank lower. Archie Kennedy had started his career at a quite proper fourteen after attending a seamanship school and learning his way into the ranks slowly.  
  
The two officers had met on Hornblower's first ship, the _Justinian_, under the watchful command of the ailing Captain Keene. Kennedy had been serving under Keene for a good while before Horatio had arrived, and he felt it best to show the new midshipman around until he could become accustomed to the ways of the crew.  
  
Since that fact, the two made themselves a friendship that would stand under nearly any pressure. Unlike most wavering relationships, theirs relied on the insecurity of their own shortcomings, and their faith in their friend's loyalty. Luckily, they had the good fortune to be stationed on the same ships since their meeting, only parting for a few short months of their careers, give or take.  
  
And so we have four gallant young men, more similar than they are different. Though the time periods are different for all, the hearts of young men seldom change, and to quote a wise saying, _"Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose... but young men think it is, and we were young."_  
  
How frighteningly... and perhaps touchingly true.  
  
  



	2. Part I Spitting Images

**Part I - Spitting Images**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
The sky was clear on that particular day of April 1912, when the _Titanic_ was only one day out from Southampton, and on her way to Queenstown for more passengers and mail. It was late in the hours, perhaps too late for Fifth Officer Lowe, as he took up his duties at midnight on the morning on the eleventh... sailing day was always one of exhaustion as passengers were settling in, duties were to be done, and when three came about, he was fairly well exhausted. James had gone to his cabin, hoping to catch a few hours sleep before his watch, and leaving Harold to make the rounds in the cold and quiet by himself.  
  
Oddly enough, he only closed his eyes for a moment. By then, it was too late.  
  
- --------- -  
  
Captain Sawyer was a hero of the Nile, and justly so, he was allowed to have suspicions of young officers who whispered, or smiled for no apparent reason. Nearly both supposed problems had been seen in Hornblower when he was caught off guard by the Captain, which caused him to be under the watchful eye of those around him. However, it was an order given by one of his own team that caused him to be put on watch and watch for thirty-six hours straight.   
  
Moving into the early hours of the morning, he struggled to keep himself awake under the bright stars, remember that at a time of war the officer of the watch would be killed if found sleeping on deck. Rubbing his eyes, he mentally noted that Archie was probably enjoying the rest that he was allowed to get due to Horatio's extra hours above.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he looked around at the few men who remained on deck, then up towards the poor soul who was stuck up in the Crow's Nest. Sighing and shaking his head a bit, he pushed away the urge to let his eyes close, but was soon overtaken by a wave of sleeplessness. Fight as he did, he still drifted away into unconsciousness.  
  
- -------- ------ --  
  
Where these four men appeared was far beyond their reckoning, but it was in England and most likely in Liverpool, a seafaring town if there ever was one. How was beyond their question, as was why, but in the moment and flash of what seemed to be light, these young men came face to face.  
  
They might have wondered about this utterly odd occurrence, had not the immediate mystery sprung up.  
  
Horatio Hornblower of the _Renown_, and Harold Lowe of the _Titanic_ were practically twins. True enough that Harold was an inch or two shorter, wore his hair neatly cropped and his uniform was of the White Star Line, but that seemed of little consequence as he stared back at a man who could nearly be a mirror. As usual, his blunt and straightforward nature afforded him the first words. "Who are you, where are we, and why in the name of God do you have my face?" the Welshman asked, his voice strong but perhaps a bit shaky -- as it should be.  
  
Not blinking, Horatio couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the man standing across from him. Not a moment before, he had been on the deck of the _Renown_, and now he was staring into eyes that were once his own, but now shared with another. Squaring off his shoulders, he noted the uniform, but paid it no mind. "I, sir, am Third Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower of His Majesty's Ship, the _Renown_. With respect, who might you be?"  
  
Lowe immediate didn't like this fellow, who had his face and seemed to, in fact, be speaking down to him. Quirking an eyebrow in answer, he squared his own shoulders in what some would consider to be pride, but those who knew him would recognize it as a mixture of nobility... and mocking. "Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, of the Royal Mail Steamer _Titanic_."  
  
Archie, however, seeing that he was no longer on a ship and under the eyes of the Captain, looked around in amazement before turning back to Lowe. Glancing between Horatio and Harold, he grinned a bit. "_Titanic_? Never heard of her."  
  
"Archie," Hornblower warned in a low tone, not moving his eyes to look at the younger man.  
  
Taken over by the moment, the Fourth Lieutenant finally stood at attention, taking off his hat and placing it under one arm before offering the hand of the other arm. "Archie Kennedy, Fourth Lieutenant, same ship," he commented lightly, receiving a nearly annoyed looking sidelong glance from his friend.  
  
"Well, you know my name," Harold answered, reaching over to shake Archie's hand.  
  
A moment later, James decided to step forward, though his look was thoughtful and contemplative as he looked between the two men who, from what he knew, were long dead. "Sixth Officer James Moody, at your service," he finally introduced.  
  
Finally letting down his guard, but not his wits, Horatio nodded to Moody and then Lowe in turn and took off his hat as well.  
  
Kennedy, with his good attitude and keen smile, took Moody's hand and shook it as well, not at all disturbed by the fact that he was supposed be in his room, sleeping at the moment. "A pleasure, sirs. You'll have to forgive my friend, here. Horatio's suffering from facial insecurity at the moment."  
  
Lowe bit down a snicker at that -- where Hornblower seemed to immediate ruffle his feathers, Archie was definitely a kindred spirit. "Insecurity? Why he is a handsome fellow, if I do say so myself," he replied, with a wink.  
  
Moody grinned, though he was glad that he was not the one meeting a twin of himself. "You would, Harry, wouldn't you?" That joking comment earned him a sideways nudge in the ribs.  
  
In an attempt to keep some form of professionalism, Horatio straightened up and looked as if he were in the presence of an Admiral. No matter how friendly the other men seemed, they were strangers and didn't belong, in his own eyes. Taking a deep breath, he let the words of advice slip from his mouth, quietly, "Hold your tongue, Mr. Kennedy. We have no clue who these men are in relation to us."  
  
Thrown off by the outward coldness of his friend, the smile faded from Archie's face and he finally nodded, letting himself slip into the fact that he was acting as anything but an officer. Making an attempt to give the others an apologetic look, he fell into silence.  
  
Lowe watched this charade with less than concealed contempt before he snapped at Hornblower, "Oh for God's sake, man, lighten up. If we were dangerous, I'm sure we would have had trouble by now."  
  
"Besides, if we don't figure out how this happened, we won't figure out how to get home," James added, as perfectly reasonable as a man could be. He inched his way towards Archie, giving him a look that basically said, "Is he always this uptight?"  
  
"Yes, Horatio, I think that perhaps someone would have thrown a punch by now if they were hostile," Archie conceded, matter-of-factly. Letting his shoulders move back to normal, he replaced his hat and looked over at his friend, who, in retrospect, seemed to melt into a normal position and sigh.  
  
"By George, I suppose you're right. Gentlemen, if you'll forgive me please for my coyness, I think that perhaps we should figure out how we all got here."  
  
"'By George,'" Harold mocked quietly, irritable with fatigue, before a well-placed elbow shut him up. After a moment, he cleared his throat, looking rightfully abashed. "The last thing I remember is being on the deck of _Titanic_."  
  
James nodded as well. "And I was in my bunk sleeping."  
  
"The same goes for me. Last I remember, I'd left Horatio on deck and was asleep as soon as my head was down. 'Course, Mr. Hornblower here was on watch and watch, so he was up on deck. Isn't that right, Mr. Hornblower?" Archie teased, a grin crossing his features once again.  
  
Horatio couldn't help but let out a laugh, noting to himself that he'd have to find something to rub into Archie's face. "You know it is, Archie," he replied, somewhat curtly, though with a smile.  
  
"Watch and watch?" Harold gave Horatio a look of honest sympathy. He had been in that position a few times himself, and could relate to the misery of it. "What did you do to bring that on?"  
  
"Nothing to deserve that, I tell ya," Kennedy answered, shaking his head a bit.  
  
"It was at the Captain's discretion. He believed that myself and one of those of my crew were trying to undermine his command," Hornblower explained, wincing when he realized how bad it sounded out loud.  
  
Kennedy continued on, true to his usual tendencies, "He's really a crazy old coot, but they just keep him around because he's a hero."  
  
"Sawyer, right?" Moody asked, his eyes contemplative, as he recalled quite a bit more than he really wanted to, given who these men were. He noticed Lowe looked over at him, eyebrows drawing together, but Moody was glad that he didn't comment.  
  
"That's right." Horatio nodded. "Do you know of him? And, for that matter, what navy are you from?"  
  
Moody frowned, a look that didn't sit well on his young face. "I know of him, Mr. Hornblower. And though Mr. Lowe and myself are in the Royal Navy Reserve, we're currently serving in the merchant marines."  
  
Archie laughed a dying laugh, wondering about Moody's look of despair, "Well, surely there'd be no reserves with the war on."  
  
Moody's eyebrows knitted even further together as he regarded Kennedy. "The war is long over."  
  
"Just how much do you know?" Harold asked, wondering where his friend was finding this information and wishing he had the same leg up.  
  
Glancing around at his surroundings, Horatio took a moment to think before looking back to the other three. "Gentlemen, perhaps this would be better discussed somewhere inside so as not to call attention to ourselves."  
  
James nodded, albeit reluctantly, finally looking away from what in his time are legends and instead taking in the area. It wasn't immediately recognizable as England, but he did note the smell of the ocean not too far away and found it comforting.  
  
"Fine," Lowe commented, perhaps a bit shortly as he produced a few notes from his pocket, and a few coins. "Where to, men?"  
  
"Anywhere but outside -- if we're recognized by someone we'll be called deserters," Archie offered, checking his pocket for what money he might have brought with him as well.  
  
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," James answered, but he started his way towards what looked to be an inn, and was vastly relieved when the sign was in English. Harold followed a moment later, along with the other two.  
  
  
It was only after a meal, mutually paid for by both parties, that they dare bring up the topic again. Settled around a dark table in the back of the tavern, Lowe was the first to approach the subject, playing on a hunch. "What year is it, if I may?"  
  
Surprised by the question, Horatio sat back in his chair. He couldn't help but wonder about the strange question and looked over at Archie before turning his attention back to Lowe in order to answer. "1801, of course."  
  
"Is it now?" Lowe smirked to himself before realizing that there was really nothing humorous about that statement.  
  
"1912," Moody said, a trace of a smile crossing his face. "Gentlemen, I think we have a minor problem."  
  
"Well, if I didn't know that you two seemed genuinely normal, I'd say that you gentlemen were off your bloody rockers, but the simple fact that we're all on shore now makes me wonder what, in the good Lord's name, happened," Archie's thoughts boiled out of his mouth, unable to keep quiet too long.   
  
"You're telling me," Harold answered, perhaps a little taken aback himself by the entire scenario.  
  
"I..." Moody started, then stopped himself with a shake of the head. He seemed to have something he wanted to say, but couldn't find the heart to say it.  
  
Kennedy looked curiously across the table to James, before leaning over a bit and setting both hands on the table. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Moody?"  
  
James gave him a thin smile, and one that echoed regret. "As well as the circumstances can allow, Mr. Kennedy."  
  
"What is it?" Harold prodded, leaning on the table as well and giving his friend a somewhat intent look.  
  
"I think that we should get back to our respective places as soon as possible," Moody said, quietly. "I have a feeling I know too much and would do much better in not knowing anything."  
  
"Too much about what?" Horatio leaned over as well, oddly disarmed of most of his officer sense in such a setting with people like himself.  
  
"The truth, sir." Moody seemed like he was almost struggling with himself. His shoulders drooped slightly as he rubbed his eyes, perhaps trying to avoid the intense looks from the other three, and it could be said that it looked like the weight of the world had been dropped on him.  
  
Harold frowned, touching his arm in concern. "What truth? About these men?"  
  
Moody merely nodded.  
  
"That's right." Archie nodded. "You two are from the future, so we're dead, right? Well, everyone dies, so relax!"  
  
"It's not a question of when, Mr. Kennedy, so much as how," James said, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling.  
  
Archie's face seemed to fall once again in concern, trying to understand fully. "Well, I don't suppose the how matters in the end, right? Death is death..."  
  
"Archie, don't cause the man any more trouble," Horatio told his friend, not sure he wanted to hear what James had on his mind.  
  
Harold took to his usual respite, that of the quick-fire officer and the man who was a born leader. "I suggest we sleep on this, fellows, and we can concern ourselves with it in the morning. We won't do ourselves any good if we're tired and unable to think."  
  
Kennedy frowned at the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, wanting nothing more than to get the answers to the questions in his mind. After a good moment, he did his best to remove any reservations he had, and nodded to the others.  
  
"Quite an idea, thank you, Mr. Lowe. Where should we stay, though?" Looking around, Horatio saw that only one or two people other than themselves remained at the inn. "I'm not sure they have someone here to check us in."  
  
Lowe grinned slightly, a faintly mischievous grin to lighten the dark feeling that the air had taken. Standing, he made his way to the counter and called out, "Innkeeper! We need rooms for the night!"  
  
The innkeeper came in after Lowe's second yell, rubbing his eyes. He looked the young officer over, not immediately certain as to what to make of him. "How many?"  
  
Harold looked back at James, who was far better at very quick calculations, and the younger man held up two fingers after he had ascertained their collective pool of money. Thank Heavens it was all legal tender for both time periods, for coins rarely changed, and one would have to check the dates. Lowe looked back at the keeper, still grinning somewhat. "Two rooms, if you please, and breakfast in the morning."  
  
"Surprisingly commanding person, eh, Horatio?" Archie smiled, watching Lowe. "You'd think the keeper thought he was an Admiral."  
  
Moody smiled as well, also watching Harold work the keeper over as he commented aside, "Commanding, yes. So commanding, in fact, that he was demoted once already for disobeying orders and taking matters into his own hands."  
  
The Fourth Lieutenant laughed upon hearing this, looking at his companion and superior. "Horatio'd be at the bottom of the ranks in that case."  
  
Hornblower gave Kennedy a look. "You do it just as much as me, Archie."  
  
Lowe trotted back, tossing Horatio a room key without bothering to give advanced warning. "It isn't much, gents, but it's a room without rats." Somehow it didn't surprise him that Archie caught it before Horatio even had time to realize it was flying at him.  
  
"All well and good then?" James asked, standing and stretching. He seemed in better spirits at the prospect of finishing his night's sleep, though there was still a mildly preoccupied aire about him.  
  
"Well and good, Mr. Moody," Harold answered, near jokingly formal.  
  
"Well, then, I suppose we'll see you two tomorrow." Archie grinned.  
  
"With any luck, it'll all end up being a dream." Lowe grinned back, then started for the steps.  
  
"And I'll be on watch," Moody complained, lightly and without any sort of real edge.  
  
"Oh, but not watch and watch," Harold said, unable to resist a teasing parting shot at Hornblower. He was up the stairwell too quickly for a reply.  
  
Horatio shook his head, looking after them before turning back to Archie who was finishing off his drink. "Well, they're friendly, if not bordering slightly rude."  
  
"Eh, you've gotta lighten up like they said, Horatio. I don't see anything wrong with them... just a couple of officers trying to have a good time -- Like we should be doing!" Tipping back the rest of his drink, he finished it and set it down again.  
  
"We should working on the ship... That's what we should be doing. This is war, Archie, and we're deserters right now."  
  
Kennedy shook his head, standing and straightening his uniform. "No, we're only deserters if we willingly leave the ship. I'd think it'd be more appropriate if we called ourselves misplaced sailors."  
  
"You know better than that," Horatio warned.  
  
"Know better than what? For Lord's sake, we've just been pulled from our ship in the middle of the ocean only to be put onto land with some blokes from a hundred years into the future! What's there to know?"  
  
Hornblower shook his head, looking up at his friend. "Calm down, Archie, or you'll have a fit..."  
  
Shaking his head as well, the younger man held up the key. "I'll leave it unlocked for you." Then, picking up his hat from on top of the table, he made his way up the stairs as well.  
  



	3. Part II Prof Moody on Hornblower Histor...

**Part II - Professor Moody on Hornblower History, 101**  
  
- -------- ----- --  
  
James Moody quite nearly lived up to his name as he looked out the window of the room in the inn, reflecting to himself on the stars and the situation at hand. A glance told him that Lowe was sleeping soundly, and he allowed himself a smile at that -- Harry could sleep through damn near anything, and there had been several times on the short voyage so far he had to roust his comrade for duty. He envied Lowe, in that sense, and idly wondered if Hornblower had the same talent... or perhaps curse. They certainly seemed to have the same temperament, even if Horatio acted more duty-bound than Harold, and he knew for a fact that their similarities were more than just skin-deep.  
  
What he knew of Horatio Hornblower and Archie Kennedy was more than enough to make him wish he didn't. His early years had been spent reading everything he could find on ships and sailing, and it wasn't too shocking that the former's memoirs were among those books. Admiral Hornblower, who had lived an amazing life and had a career most could only dream of... and Kennedy, who died from circumstances surrounding a Spanish siege on the _Renown_ during a particularly turbulent time in both men's careers. Who had been thought of as a mutinous traitor until Hornblower had died and his memoirs were published.  
  
Who, in most ways, had been quite a hero.  
  
That what was weighing so heavily on Jimmy's mind. It was one thing to read about these living legends, where paper doesn't convey the full truth when it comes to personality. It was another story all together when, by some of the most bizarre circumstances ever faced, you have a chance to meet them. He found he liked both, and in an odd way felt a kinship with them as all sailors seem to have -- bound together by a love of the ocean and of their jobs. And, what's more, he was soul searching as to whether it would be wise or not to warn them of the fates they would face.  
  
How long he sat awake in thought was not known, but dawn came through even as he did, and he felt tired and frustrated. It finally wore on him enough, as he thought about the young man who was so damn cheerful and good-natured, that perhaps telling would be better, and that unhappy fate could be avoided. With that decision made, he slipped out quietly and went to find Archie.  
  
  
  
The night had been partially kind to Archie, and he was able to sleep through the first hours with ease, but soon the feel of a normal bed took a toll on him, and he lay awake. It had been a long time since he was allowed the time to think, and after what seemed like years of the same routine, he felt tied down by the thoughts. From the time he became a midshipman to when he was alongside Horatio as a lieutenant, his life had been a near perfect routine, causing him to wake up in the early hours of the morning, then go to work aboard the ship until evening when he was finally allowed to sleep once again. There was no time to think between days and shifts -- at least not so thoroughly.  
  
Lowe and Moody had taken the young man by surprise, but he had quickly made up for it with a quip and a good handshake. Still, there was something that disturbed him about the look that Moody had adopted not long after they began talking. There was certainly something akin to understanding fear behind that man's eyes, and that was what had, possibly, scared Archie so much.  
  
Sitting up in bed, he realized that he hadn't even bothered to take of his uniform coat before dropping off into the soft bed. It had been a long time since he had felt the perks to a feather down and cotton mattress, but the effects had caught up to him, causing his back to be stiff along with his neck. Standing, he stretched and then straightened out his uniform completely, noting in the low gray of morning that Horatio had finally managed to get some good rest.  
  
Moving over to the window, he let his blue eyes rest down on the street below, one hand at his side and the other rested against the wall. What had they meant by how he died? He was certainly curious about the comment, but was also afraid of what might come of it. Perhaps he'd die of some horrible disease in the West Indies, or maybe during a storm if something were to happen to the ship. Worse yet, he feared most of all, that something would cause him to be responsible for others deaths as well as his own, probably brought on by some fit or another that seemed to plague him all too often.  
  
He honestly wanted to break down into tears against the window, but his pride got the better of him and he bit back what he could with a disinherited sigh. He almost wished that he were back on the _Renown_ at that point, and nearly laughed at himself, wondering how a few words could have scared him back to such a state. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him; he wouldn't let them.  
  
So, with the two near-twins asleep, their companions were left to wonder. James finally summoned his courage and knocked very quietly at the door, straightening his shoulders as any good officer and gentleman would do.  
  
Slightly startled by the knock, Kennedy looked over at Horatio to make sure he wasn't surprised awake before moving to the door and opening it as quietly as it would allow. It took a few second to open it as slowly as he did, and the creaking made him wince, but all that faded when he saw Moody and gave a small smile.  
  
Moody smiled back, his face brighter now that he had at least made a decision. That alone seemed to lift the heavy pall, making his unbidden grin sincere and even one of camaraderie. "Forgive me, sir, if I've interrupted."  
  
"Don't worry," Archie laughed. "I think Horatio would have to be thrown out of his bed before he'd wake up at this point." Stepping away from the door, he gestured towards the inside of the room. "Can come in, if you like."  
  
"Actually," James said, still keeping his voice low, "I was hoping I could persuade you to join me for breakfast." He gave a quiet chuckle. "I hate taking my meals alone, and I would consider it a privilege."  
  
"Well, in that case, I'd be obliged to accept, wouldn't I? I don't think anyone has ever considered being with me a privilege." He flashed a smile, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. "I'll be glad to have the company as well."  
  
Jimmy chuckled again, though he looked a little tired, and the two of them made their way downstairs into the main room. It was early, and there were very few people up at that time, but those who were had their breakfasts, and after ordering, they found themselves back at the table they had occupied the evening before. Breakfast itself was a very quiet affair, and after some time James sat back with a cup of coffee..._good_ coffee, Moody noted with a sardonic grin. The morning was already beginning to look brighter.  
  
Sipping at the water that was brought to them, the young lieutenant looked across the table at his companion. Watching him for a long moment, he saw the look on his face and offered a sympathetic grin. "Couldn't sleep, eh?"  
  
Moody shook his head, holding the large, earthenware mug in his hands. "No, not nearly so well as I had hoped." He smirked, quite nearly to himself. "Not that Harry had any trouble -- I swear, the ship could sink before he'd wake up."  
  
Kennedy let out a laugh, shaking his head, "Horatio can be the same way sometimes, but usually he's the one that has to wake me up."  
  
"I say, they really do look too alike for their own good," Moody mused, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs out in front of himself. "I have never seen two men who weren't related who could pass so easily for each other. If they were dressed the same, I don't think I'd have an easy time figuring it out."  
  
"Certainly something that could cause problems if they weren't both fine men. Imagine the hell one could put the other through just because they'd be easily recognized as the other."  
  
"Or the absolutely treacherous tricks they could pull if they collaborated."  
  
"Perhaps we shouldn't give them any ideas," Archie snickered, turning his glass around and around, idly.  
  
James rolled his eyes, looking at the ceiling and laughing, "Yes, because the next thing we knew, we would be addressing them as Mr. Horatio Lowe and Mr. Harold Hornblower, and tearing our hair because they're too quick and we are just their confused juniors." He looked back across at Archie. "Or, worse still, Harry corrupts Mr. Hornblower and thereby ruins his career due to some insane practical joke."  
  
"I don't think Horatio would very much appreciate that. Of course, I'd probably be serving along side of him a lot longer that way, but I'd much rather he be a success. One of us needs to go on and do something that'll shock the world."  
  
A trace of regret ran across Moody's face again, but he did his best to stifle it. "Do you believe in fate, Mr. Kennedy?" he asked, haltingly, a moment or two later.  
  
"Fate, Mr. Moody?" Looking down at the table, he rubbed at the glass with his thumbs for the sake of something to occupy himself with while he thought. "I suppose I do in most cases, yes. I guess it comes with the belief in the fact that our lives all run along a course that's been set already, right?"  
  
"Somewhat. You see, I've been wondering why we're here, though we're so far separated by our times." James took a deep breath, staring into the cup of coffee with a distant look before looking back. "I've been thinking about fate, and that perhaps this odd circumstance is supposed to happen for a reason."  
  
Unable to keep the usually present grin on his face, he looked up and met the other officer's eyes. "Something happens bad to me, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Moody said, honestly, holding his gaze. "Suffice it to say, that's what's been making me so damn melancholy since we arrived, and I do apologize for that."  
  
Archie laughed for the sake of it, shaking his head, "Don't worry, I don't think any of us have been ourselves since we arrived here."  
  
A moment was spent soul-searching on Jimmy's part, and he finally said, slowly and deliberately, "I would tell you, if you wanted... I know it may not necessarily be wise, but I wouldn't be an honest man if I didn't offer it, nor would I be able to live with good conscience."  
  
"I can't say that I'd honestly want to know from the look on your face, but if you believe it needs to be told, I'll listen. The only thing I can ask of you, sir, is that you won't say anything to Horatio."  
  
"Of course. If it's any consolation, Mr. Kennedy, it isn't the manner of death that bears so painfully as it's the circumstances surrounding it," Moody offered, wincing slightly.  
  
Nodding slightly, he folded his hands in front of him, tapping his fingers lightly. "Might I ask what circumstances they are?"  
  
Moody shifted in his seat, forcing himself to look at Archie as he told what he remembered. "Well, if you recall, I mentioned that I knew of Captain Sawyer. I can only assume that this is when I think it is, and if Mr. Hornblower's memoirs read properly, soon the Captain will have an accident, rendering him incapable of command." He frowned, eyebrows drawn. "The story is that he fell down into the cargo hold on his own, but it was immediately thought by his loyal crew that it was an act of mutiny. Lieutenant Buckland takes command of the _Renown_, and you continue to Santo Domingo." The young officer stopped, briefly taking a moment to gather his thoughts.  
  
"Arriving not long later, since your course was heading there as it was, under the command of Mr. Buckland, yourself and a few others run the Spanish out of their own fort, and Mr. Hornblower is able to get them to agree on a complete surrender." He paused a moment, eyes shifting to try to recall the memories to the best of his ability.  
  
"A full surrender by the Dons?" Archie couldn't help but break in, almost if he had forgotten that the story was meant to be a sad one. He was utterly fascinated at the moment, acting as if it were some great old sea story. "Well, Horatio's gonna be a lucky man when he gets home, isn't he?"  
  
James took the question in stride, not knowing how to answer it quite yet. Continuing on, he made sure that his voice was low enough so that Archie would be the only listener, "Nevertheless, at some point on the trip back to England the Spanish are able to leave their confines, and run a revolt along the ship. Lieutenant Hornblower is commanding the prize ships, and while the rest of the crew struggles with the prisoners, he mounts an attack off to the side.  
  
"Somewhere along the line the Second Lieutenant, Bush, isn't it? Anyway, somewhere along the line, he's sliced across the stomach with a sword, as far as I can gather something equally as bad happens to you... I think perhaps you were shot," he said quietly, looking down at the table with a twinge of regret for what he's said already.  
  
"What about Horatio?" Archie looked at his newly found friend, concern written all over his face.  
  
"He was left uninjured. In any case, after the battle was over, Mr. Bush's wounds were tended to, and after the Spanish had been locked down, he found you up on deck. I think that his words were that you were 'a damned bloody fool' for not telling him you were injured before that point." Moody looked up at Kennedy once again, judging his reaction, and not seeing anything to betray the other's emotion, he nodded.  
  
The young man nodded, doing his best not to let on anything he might be feeling, and succeeding quite well. "So I bled to death? Not too bad, all-in-all."  
  
"No, I suppose it isn't," Jimmy agreed.  
  
"But that's not all of it, right? Something else had to have happened, because I can't see that as being a bad end to it all."  
  
The storyteller outwardly winced, truly bothered by the whole situation. "No, it's not all. From what Mr. Hornblower wrote in his memoirs, it seems as though you took it on yourself to take the blame for what had happened to the Captain so Horatio wouldn't be accused."  
  
"And lost my good name in the end." Archie nodded, somewhat bitterly, but after a short moment, a smile crept back onto his young face. "Well, all's well that ends well, right?"  
  
"And even better if it could somehow be avoided," Jimmy pointed out, feeling near drained after just being the bearer of bad news, and the guilty relief that he had gotten it off of his chest.  
  
"I suppose so. Still... I guess I shouldn't ask this, but I'm curious as to why you'd want to help. We weren't exactly the most civil to you and Mr. Lowe..."  
  
A grin that bordered mischievous crossed Moody's face, immediately brightening his entire composure. "It isn't every day that a man gets to meet his boyhood heroes, Mr. Kennedy."  
  
Archie looked across the table with an inquiring look for a moment before breaking into a fit of laughter, "Lord, man, don't say that! You're nearly the same age as me."  
  
James laughed with him, though he had only been half-joking when he had said it. There were differences between what a boy thought of as his heroes versus that of an adult, though he found he instantly liked Kennedy, and even Hornblower, despite his stiff and upstanding demeanor. Truth be told, he found it much easier to relate to them as equals rather than people he should bow before. Equal ground allowed for friendship, and as all four of them knew, that was something to be held onto.  
  
"Well, James, what do you say that I buy you a drink?" Kennedy took out some bills from his pocket. "I'm just in half-pay right now, but I think I can spare it for the man who just saved my life."  
  
"No thank you," Moody said, smiling though in appreciation. "I'll be glad to keep you company, however."  
  
"Sounds like an idea to me." Archie grinned, sitting back in his chair and relaxing.  
  
James took a sip of the long cold coffee, mentally noting that it was still better than the near-deadly stuff they served in the Officer's Mess on the _Titanic_. He tried to stifle a yawn, feeling quite acutely the pressures that had lifted in his telling Archie and the ones that replaced it about getting home. "I wonder what will happen when we get back."  
  
"Maybe you'll all get promoted? I'm not sure about you, but I think that we're going to get court-martialed if we're gone too terribly long. Let's hope that no one notices."  
  
Jimmy nodded, setting his cup down and rubbing his eyes. "Heaven only knows how we got here in the first place. We don't even know when we are, let alone how to get home." A slightly teasing grin ran across his lips as he added, "I'd venture to say that we all have lost our minds, but that would be too simple an explanation."  
  
"You can say that again. Then again, that doesn't explain the similarities between Mr. Lowe and Horatio..."  
  
"No, that it doesn't."  
  
Rubbing his eyes, Archie took a deep breath in an attempt to clear his mind. It would have been considered meditation if it had been a voluntary thing, but he soon found himself staring off into the distance at something completely unexplainable. Really, he didn't realize that he was doing it; it was just something that happened.  
  
James sat in silence for a moment before reaching across the table to touch the other man's arm, eyebrows knitting in concern. "Mr. Kennedy?"  
  
Startled out of his trance, the young lieutenant looked over at Moody, blinking. "Sorry, did you say something?" Frowning, he looked down at the table, then around him before looking back to the other officer.  
  
"Somewhere else, were you?" Jimmy asked, smiling slightly.  
  
"Somewhere else? No, I don't think so. I guess I was caught up in thought, perhaps." Chuckling lightly, he shook his head. "Don't worry, it happens all the time."  
  
Moody nodded, rubbing his eyes yet again. The mellow light of early morning and the quiet of the inn was starting to make him drowsy, and the coffee didn't help as it normally would. Leaning his elbows on the table, proper or not, he rested his face in his hands before glancing back up. "How long d'you suppose our good gentlemen will be sleeping?"  
  
Finishing off the last of his water, Archie smiled. "I'm not sure about your friend, but I think mine will sleep quite a while. Think we should follow their examples?"  
  
"I'm certainly tempted to," James said, standing and throwing down a few coins as a tip. "I know I could use the rest."  
  
"I think that goes for both of us. Next time, the meal's on me, but until then, I guess we should go." Standing, Kennedy once again straightened his uniform, mostly out of habit, and offered Moody a smile.  
  
Moody did the same, giving a formal nod and a less formal grin to the other officer before heading back upstairs. He walked into the room quietly, chuckling softly to himself as he noted Lowe still sleeping the morning hours away. He slipped his uniform jacket off, resting it over the back of a chair, and undid his tie before laying down on the opposite bed. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.  
  
Likewise, when Archie returned to his room, Horatio was still laying motionless on his bed. Making sure that everything was in order, he then proceeded to unbutton his uniform jacket and shrugged it off before laying it carefully over the only chair in the room. Brushing some dust off his hat, he sat it on the seat and crawled back into the soft bed. Thinking of his fate for a moment with a slightly grim look, he decided it wasn't of great importance at the time, and closed his eyes, drifting not long later.  
  
  



	4. Part III Our Lives for a Shilling

**Part III - Our Lives for a Shilling**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
Time filtered back to the young men sometime in the late morning or the early afternoon. Harold was the first to wake up, feeling incredibly refreshed, and he lay still to get his bearings for a period before standing and stretching. James was still in the land of dreams, and Lowe saw no need to disturb his friend as he pulled his uniform jacket from underneath Moody's, shrugging it on. The Welshman had hoped that he would awaken in his cabin on _Titanic_, but for now he did what he always did best and made due with what he had.  
  
A quick glance out the window startled him, however. Instead of the darkened streets, there were automobiles driving along the road, and people in the period dress he was most familiar with. His heart leapt as he nearly pounced on Moody, shaking him insistently. "James!"  
  
Moody woke up with a start, blinking in confusion before focusing on Lowe. "Huh...?"  
  
"Come look!" Apparently Harry was quite thrilled with his find, and literally pulled Jimmy from the bed and to the window, pointing.  
  
It took a moment or two for the scene to sink into the younger man's mind, but after he took it all in, from the streets to the garb, his face broke into a wide and bright grin. "We're back in 1912! By Jove, this is terrific!"  
  
"Well, old chap, what do you say we try to figure out where the _Titanic_ is?" Lowe's dark eyes twinkled as he asked this, all the while heading for the door.  
  
"Absolutely," Moody answered, without a moment's hesitation. He grabbed his coat, not even putting it on before following Harold out. On a whim, however, he stopped at the door where Hornblower and Kennedy had taken up when last he knew, wondering if they were there as well. Truthfully, he would have liked to have them to be.  
  
  
  
Inside the next room, Horatio had finally woken, stiff as a board. Standing, he noted Archie sleeping on the other bed, an arm over his eyes. Smirking, the Third Lieutenant stretched, his bones popping and crackling, and with a wince, he moved over to the window in hopes to judge what time of day it was.  
  
Figuring he could go out and search for the _Renown_, he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to keep them warm, and drew back the light curtains. Craning his head to see down on the street, he was welcomed by an automobile zooming down the road. Jumping back a pace, he rubbed his eyes and looked again. "What in bloody blazes is that?!" he exclaimed, letting his eyes follow another of the horseless carriages. "Archie! Archie, wake up! I think we're under siege!"  
  
Shocked awake by the words, Kennedy sat up, letting his hands move back to push him up. "What?! What do you mean under siege?"  
  
Horatio pulled him up from the bed by the arm, though not harshly, and dragged him stumbling over to the window. "Look for yourself!"  
  
Squinting in the bright light of the sun, he glanced down at the street to see what Horatio has seen. "What the hell are those?"  
  
"I'm not quite sure," the older man replied, "but they're certainly not English. Get your coat, man, and let's get out of here before they find us!"  
  
Turning, Archie grabbed his jacket and hat quickly, pulling them both on in a rush of disorder, before moving to the door and pulling it open, ready to throw a punch if anyone was behind it.  
  
Quite unfortunately, Harold and James were on the immediate other side of the door. Lowe gave a grin, not knowing that he was in danger of a bloodied nose. "Morning, gentlemen."  
  
Nearly pulling back his fist to strike, Kennedy was checked by Hornblower who put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Archie, it's just the other two."  
  
Visibly shaken, Archie nodded. "Right, right..." Pausing, he turned behind him and looked at the window and then back again. "We have to get out of here! We're under siege and I think they're probably out for blood. There isn't any way in the name of God I'm spending any more time in some prison in the middle of no man's land--"  
  
James frowned in an attempt to look serious, but he couldn't hide the shaking in his shoulders that signified a barely contained laugh. Harold was a little better at containing that, and he smiled, interrupting Archie almost gently, "Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Hornblower, we're not under siege... we're back in 1912, or damn close to, and in England to boot."  
  
Stopping in mid-motion the youngest man gave the oldest a somewhat submissive look. "I've never been in 1912...."  
  
The look Harry gave him in turn was quite nearly affectionate and certainly reassuring. "Relax, there's nothing to it. We're not at war, nor are we in any sort of danger."  
  
Moody nodded in agreement. "We have to try to find out what happened to the _Titanic_, if you gents care to join us. We can show you around."  
  
Horatio nodded as well, finally putting his hat on and touching it in respect. "If you'll lead the way, then, sirs."  
  
"Yes, sir," James answered, starting his way down the steps. The rest of the men fell in line, and Lowe stopped to pay the tab on the rooms above with Horatio.  
  
The innkeeper looked between the two men, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. He didn't remember checking them in the night before, but then, his wife usually handled the late comers. Heck, though, he knew he would have remembered if he had. After a pause, he ventured, "Brothers?"  
  
"Twins to be exact." Archie grinned. "They work for the circus."  
  
Lowe bit his tongue, but only just, thankful that the innkeeper was not the same man who had checked them in from whenever they had been. "Yes, sir, that's right. Though he's younger than I by an hour or so."  
  
Moody nudged Kennedy, leaning aside to whisper, "Quick thinking... my compliments, Mr. Kennedy."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Moody," Archie replied just as quietly.  
  
"Of course, sir," Hornblower continued on for Harold, unable to resist a chance to take a little back from Archie for his comments the night before, "but the real marvel are these two men who are really women. You've heard of the bearded lady, haven't you? Well, she's shaved." The lieutenant gestured to Kennedy, flashing a smile.  
  
Harold followed on behind that, choking down the laugh that was threatening to burst out from his throat, "Quite a spectacular sight, isn't it my good man?"  
  
The innkeeper looked at Archie and James, who were both by now extremely red-faced with embarrassment, and eyed them up and down for a moment before looking back at Lowe and Hornblower. He couldn't tell, but he'd be damned if he'd let that slip. "An excellent job, fellas, but I c'n tell they're ladies."  
  
That was basically the last straw for poor Harry, who put the money down and made for the door as quickly as he reasonably could without ruining the given story. Horatio, being the more controlled of the two, managed to nod at the innkeeper before walking out, leaving Archie and Jimmy to stand with their mouths open. By the time that he made it outside, Harold was leaning on the side of the inn, laughing so hard that not a sound came from him. After a moment, the Fifth Officer managed, "Brilliant... just brilliant," before falling into that helpless laughter again. Hornblower was worse for the wear, not even able to get out a reply.  
  
Archie, watching Jimmy walk out in horror, blinked and looked to the innkeeper who was grinning at him. Leaning forward a bit, he talked quietly, "That's all right, they've both been slightly crazy since the Queen Mum had her way with them." Nodding, he smiled and walked outside as well.  
  
James, in the meantime, was busy punching Lowe in the arm. Unfortunately, it only made Harold laugh harder, and finally Moody gave up with a slight chuckle himself. He had to admit, it had been a wicked joke to pull, but a clever use of psychology. He looked to Horatio, tempted to give him a bruise to remember it by, but decided against it for lack knowing what his reaction would be.   
  
Kennedy still had the smug look on his face when he joined. Nodding to the other two men, he looked at Horatio squarely before shrugging and tackling the older man, knowing he couldn't hurt him, but certainly could make him think again before testing wits against a superior adversary.  
  
Moody watched the friendly scuffle for a moment, tossing a grin at Lowe, who was starting to settle down. It hadn't taken him long once he was outside to ascertain that he was indeed in Liverpool, and it wasn't a long walk to where he could find out what had happened with the _Titanic_. The White Star Line office was only a matter of a mile or so.  
  
He didn't need to go quite so far.  
  
The paper didn't immediately register with him as he gave the newsie a coin in exchange. He looked at the date and felt relief, though it wasn't the 11th it was still 1912, and then he looked at the headline and it actually didn't process for a good minute. He wasn't aware that he had stopped in the middle of the street, and the blaring of horns couldn't make it into his stunned mind.  
  
**"The Unsinkable Titanic Sinks Off Newfoundland!"**  
  
The paper dropped from Moody's unresisting fingers as the horror became a real feeling, grabbing his heart and throat in an icy grip. He might have spoken, but he couldn't think let alone say anything -- suddenly everything seemed silent and frozen. He only faintly felt a hand touch his shoulder and heard words spoken. He didn't know what they were.  
  
"Jimmy?" Harold frowned in worry, looking at Moody's vacant and near catatonic stare with concern. "James!"  
  
Looking up from brushing his uniform off, Horatio heard Lowe's worried voice and looked to where Archie had been, only to realize that his young companion was already at the heels of the other two. Running over, he tried his best to assess the situation. "What's the matter?"  
  
"I don't know," Lowe muttered, reaching down to pick the paper up that had dropped. One look at the headline was enough to nearly stun him into the same state, and he literally gasped, "Good God in Heaven..."  
  
Taking both of them by the shoulders, the past set of the group led the present off the street and onto the sidewalk. Waiting to make sure that Hornblower had everything under control, Kennedy went back to the newspaper, nearly getting run over in the attempt before finally retrieving the chronicle and beginning to read just out of the way of the cars.  
  
"It's our fault," Moody mumbled, near in tears from his discovery. "Two officers short and she might not have gone down."  
  
"Don't talk like that!" Lowe answered, a bit sharper than he intended. His hands shook as he took his hat off, running a one hand through his hair in anxious tension. After a moment, he looked back at Archie, almost afraid to ask, "What does it say?"  
  
Reading out clearly, but quietly, the youngest began to speak, "'In a shocking turn of events, the Royal Mail Steamer _Titanic_ sank off the coast of Newfoundland on the 15th of this month. After striking an iceberg, she went down in less than a two hours, claiming over 1,500 lives. Captain E. J. Smith was performing his final Atlantic run before retirement along with a specialized crew chosen to work with him specifically. It is reported that the Captain went down with his ship along with Chief Officer Henry Wilde of Liverpool, First Officer William Murdoch of Southampton, and...'" Archie looked up from the paper at Moody, eyes filled with concern, and a look of apology gracing his strained features, "'...and Sixth Officer James Moody of Grimsby...'"  
  
Horatio looked up in time to see Archie as the last words were read, then moved over towards him to see for himself. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Of course I'm sure, you bloody fool, I can read," the younger man snapped, immediately regretting it the moment it slipped from his mouth. Shoving the papers into Hornblower's hands with a quiet apology, he then stepped back as if they were poison.  
  
Lowe was livid as he leaned over Horatio's shoulder to read it for himself. He stepped back once he confirmed it. "I refuse to believe this! Mr. Moody is the junior most officer, and I damn well think he would get off that floating death trap before any of the rest of us!"  
  
"Harold," Moody said, quietly, as he stood straight from where he had been bent over, hands on his knees, trying to come to grips with the double shock. Deliberately he pulled down the black uniform jacket. His jaw knotted for a moment, and he swallowed hard, but his stance was very much that of an officer and gentleman. "At least it shows that we were there, so at some point we must get back to _Titanic_."  
  
In the background, Kennedy paced somewhat feverishly while Horatio looked up at the two officers from the doomed ship. "Well, sirs, we cannot let something like this happen."  
  
Lowe nodded in avid agreement. "Damn right, old man!"  
  
James looked between the two for a moment, a humorless smile crossing his face. "Sirs, I have a feeling it's not our decision to make." He nodded to himself, as though coming to a conclusion, then looked back up with a strained look of calm. "There are worse ways of dying," Archie immediately came to mind, but he pushed the thought back, "and in the service of saving lives is not a bad way to go."  
  
Finally stopping, Kennedy looked over at the other three before speaking up again, his eyebrows knit together. "Might I possibly have a word with you, Mr. Moody?"  
  
"Certainly," James answered, stepping over to Kennedy and following him out of earshot of the other two.  
  
"I hope you'll understand me when I say that I cannot allow you to just sit back and accept this, Mr. Moody..."  
  
Moody gave him a sad little smile, resting a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "I don't think that I have much of a choice, Mr. Kennedy. If I didn't make it off of _Titanic_, there had to have been a reason -- Mr. Lowe is right, I would technically be the first officer to leave, but something must have prevented that."  
  
Looking down at the ground, Archie searched his mind and heart for a long moment before looking up at Moody. "In that case, then there was some reason that I gave my life." Pausing a moment, he looked his companion directly in the eyes. "For God's sake, man, I'm not going to let you die!"  
  
"How could we prevent it?" Moody shook his head, unable to hold Kennedy's intense look for more than a moment before looking at the ground. "And more importantly, should we?"  
  
Knotting his jaw with determination, the twenty-three year old looked towards Lowe and Hornblower a few steps away. "Should we? Fifteen hundred is bad enough, but I'll be damned if I'm going to lose a friend if I can do something about it."  
  
Moody seemed about to speak when Lowe walked over, Horatio a step behind, and both men had a look of mirrored and persuasive determination. Harold looked at Archie for a moment, then James. "Somehow, gentlemen, we are not going to let the _Titanic_ sink. If there's any way in Hell that we can prevent it, we will."  
  
Hornblower nodded in agreement, "I agree. We might be out of our time, but I'm sure both of us will do what we can to help."  
  
Lowe held up the paper. "Mr. Hornblower and myself have decided to try and get every paper pertaining to this that we can find and try to figure out as much as we can about what happened and how to prevent it."  
  
"A bold undertaking," Moody murmured, tossing a sideways glance at Archie.  
  
"Perhaps we should find a place to stay until we're finished with this, then?" Kennedy offered, pulling at the edges of his hat.  
  
"Though not in the same inn, if it's all the same to you gentlemen," James said, trying for humor, no matter how weak. He noticed where the intent duplicates hadn't that the garb of Horatio and Archie was drawing glances, and the idea of finding somewhere out of the public eye made good sense.  
  
"Sounds as good of an idea as any," Hornblower conceded, indeed not noticing the onward glances.  
  
"Some place quiet, if you don't mind," Archie added, softly.  
  
Lowe looked around for a moment, further getting his bearings before setting off with an expectant glance back. There was a great deal of determination in his step, as a man with a mission might walk. Moody noted his direction, realizing where he was heading -- some places were better than others for sailors, and all sailors of England and Great Britain knew of them -- then fell in behind.  
  
Waiting a moment behind for Kennedy, Hornblower walked with him a few steps behind the other two. "Perhaps we shouldn't be--" He started to talk, but was cut off by a stern look from his companion.  
  
"I won't just sit by and let these things happen, history be damned." Waiting for Hornblower to nod, he nodded as well and replaced his hat, remaining with his longtime friend.  
  



	5. Part IV It's Mutiny, By God! Mutiny!

**Part IV - It's Mutiny, By God! Mutiny!**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
The pack of four walked for quite awhile, though Moody had mentioned to Lowe that their companions were drawing attention, and they took a less direct but quieter route to the seaside. Seeing the water had an immediately calming effect on the two _Titanic_ officers, even though the port was busy with steamers and schooners alike. The smell of salt touched them, calmed them, even if it was or was not to be the same ocean that would claim or had claimed the _Titanic_.  
  
Moving to the edge of the docks, Horatio couldn't help but smile, taking a deep breath of the ever-familiar air. Beside him, Archie stood with his ever thoughtful features, nearly haunted by the water that would inevitably claim the life of at least one person he knew. After so many years on the water he had already seen many deaths, but none seemed to strike so close to home as the thought of fifteen hundred people, plus a friend that he had just gained.  
  
Harold immediately started towards a seaside inn, but James held back and walked with the other two, giving them a concerned look. It could not have been easy to see a port that in their time had been nothing but wood and sail, where now it was occupied by those but also by giant steel vessels. He did note Horatio's smile, though, and thought perhaps that no matter what time a sailor comes from, they are all men of the water at heart. "Everything comes clearer here, it seems," he finally said, lightly.  
  
"Quite," the Third Lieutenant replied, smiling at James. "The air does well to free the mind, and I believe that if there is anyone in the country that needs to do so, it's us."  
  
"Amen, sir." Jimmy nodded in the direction of the inn Lowe had vanished into. "Shall we?"  
  
Horatio nodded, glancing to Archie for a moment. "I think it would be for the best." Turning, he smiled slightly.  
  
"Then along we go," Moody said, turning and walking to the inn. His shoulders were set proudly, but there was a bit of a slow deliberateness to his step, as though he was taking in every one and realizing that it may well be his last moment on dry land.  
  
"I'm sure that everything will turn out just fine," Hornblower offered, assuredly, opening the door and allowing Jimmy to step through before him.  
  
"Aye, sir," James answered, automatically, though he had no real reason to call Hornblower that. He gave a nod of thanks as he passed, then went to looking for his shipmate.  
  
Harry was waiting against one wall, leaning and grilling some poor sailor about the _Titanic_ and what he knew. By grilling, it's to be assumed that the subject in question is nervous... well, the man was staring into the intense face of a fiery Welshman on a mission, and he wasn't very old to begin with. When Lowe was satisfied, he clapped him on the shoulder, and walked back over to his comrades.  
  
"Anything that might help?" Horatio asked, watching the young man leave in quite a hurry.  
  
"The remaining officers are to remain in New York at landing," Harold stated, conspiritally, "awaiting a Senate Hearing into the disaster. The _Carpathia_ was the ship who came to the rescue, and _Titanic_ went down sometime after three in the morning of the 15th, if this fellow wasn't misleading me." He scowled. "There's rumors one of the officers shot themselves as well."  
  
"_Carpathia_? Rostron's ship, isn't it?" Moody asked. "And did they say which officer?"  
  
"And possibly why?" Hornblower continued, quietly.  
  
Lowe shook his head. "No, to either."  
  
Moody leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes from stress. "That sounds like complete and utter bollocks, if you ask me."  
  
"I don't know them as well as you, Jimmy, but I agree."  
  
Watching the two for a moment, Hornblower then turned to look around the room, only to find the majority staring at him while they talked to their own company. Shifting slightly uncomfortably, he turned back to Moody and Lowe. "Gentlemen, if you don't mind, I think I should retire at the moment for the sake of feeling somewhat more in place when out of the public eye."  
  
Lowe offered a room key, muttering under his breath that at least seaside inns were very affordable before commenting, "A sound idea, Mr. Hornblower."  
  
James tossed a look at Archie, who had been quiet for far too long, and stepped over, his voice low, "Mr. Kennedy?"  
  
Quite alert, Archie looked over at James, raising his chin slightly. "Mr. Moody?"  
  
"We're going to retreat to someplace less scrutinized," James offered, smiling. "Care to join us?"  
  
Not quiet understanding for a moment, Kennedy thought quietly to himself before the reason struck him and he nodded. "Yes... Yes, I think I would."  
  
Jimmy clapped him on the back before starting up the rickety staircase after Horatio and Harold, both of whom were still in deep discussion, utilizing their sharp minds to bounce scenarios off of each other.  
  
"I think the easiest way would be to tell the Captain and Chief what would happen, but the problem would be a matter of whether they choose to believe it or not," Lowe said quietly to Hornblower.  
  
Hornblower nodded in agreement, his hands behind his back as he walked. "And, being men that value their careers, I'm sure, they would have to believe."  
  
"It isn't always so simple in the private sector," Harold explained, frowning at the thought. "Ships are always in competition to complete a run faster and better appointed than the competitor. To delay the wealthy and influential would result in a loss of business, so on the whim of a junior officer, they're not entirely likely to listen."  
  
"Couldn't you do something without talking to one of your superiors? Change the course, or make sure someone knows how dangerous the crossing could be?" Archie offered his few words, looking up at the near twins ahead of him.  
  
"If he did, he would lose his job," Moody answered for Lowe. He knew, unlike the other two, just how badly Harold relied on having his job with the White Star Line. "I could, however, and I wouldn't likely be more than demoted and reassigned."  
  
Horatio nodded, stopping at the door that was a match to the key. "I think, perhaps, that we must consider if we don't get a chance to go back, as well."  
  
"Indeed." James walked to the next room, leaning on the wall beside it. "There's a great deal to think about, gentlemen, and if I may join you after I get a shower, we can discuss it."  
  
"Sounds like a plan to me, Mr. Moody," Archie replied, smiling slightly. He hadn't had a shower in quite a long time, and he intended to make use of what water he could get.  
  
"In some time then, lads," Lowe said, grinning, and disappeared into his room. Moody followed a moment later, and there was a brief argument to be heard about who would get the bathroom first. Given the sounds of muttered cursing, Lowe lost.  
  
Not able to help himself from laughing, Horatio followed his companion into their room, amazed how quickly he could lose track of Archie when the younger man had a leg up on him.  
  
  
  
It was a good two hours later when the two parties met back up. Lowe and Moody both had the sense to leave their uniform jackets in their room, as well as their ties... there was no sense in broadcasting that they were part of the White Star Line, and certainly not from the _Titanic_. Likewise, Hornblower and Kennedy had tried their best to be in what casual garb they had, which happened to be their uniforms save the jackets and hats. Both looked quite refreshed and quite a bit younger when cleaned up.  
  
They met up in the main room of the inn, just before dinner, and found the quietest spot they could. Harold and Horatio immediately went back to their previous line of discussion of how to deal with the situation. James sat quietly, not-so-shamefully eavesdropping on the conversations around -- the _Titanic_ was one of the hot topics, and he winced quietly every time the officers were brought up by the other sailors there, and near cringed when they were ridiculed.  
  
Understanding what Jimmy was wincing at, Archie listened to Harold explain some complicated plan for a moment before leaning over to the Sixth Officer. "One thing for you to know," he whispered, "is that I'm sure we could take these men down. Keep that in mind." He winked and sat back in his seat, grinning.  
  
Despite himself, Moody smiled. That would be something Lowe would say if he wasn't in the midst of being complex. "I have no doubts of that."  
  
"Good, because right now I wouldn't mind letting out some frustration. You just say if you need me." He had no reserve on his voice when replying, before taking a sip of his water.  
  
Jimmy laughed, then dropped his voice with a grin, "I'll be sure to do that, though I'm not sure it would be smart to have ourselves thrown out... especially since we have the rooms for the night."  
  
"I think you're the more sensible of the four of us, Mr. Moody, and I shall take that suggestion to heart." If it weren't for the fact that Kennedy hadn't been drinking at all, one would almost believe he was drunk.  
  
"You might want to keep your voice down, Archie," Horatio warned off to the side, watching the innkeeper having a conversation with an officer of the law that seemed to be focused on the four men.  
  
"And I think this may be a good time to reconvene in one of our rooms," Lowe added, watching the innkeeper out of the corner of his eye. "What do you say we bug off like the good man seems to want us to?"  
  
Moody smiled into his glass of water, a mischievous sort of smile. "Indeed; we wouldn't want to make the poor man uncomfortable, now would we?"  
  
"By the look of him," Horatio grinned, "he would be uncomfortable with my mother around."  
  
"By the look of him, she would be the first woman he's set eyes on in quite some time... provided he looked better in his youth," Harold smirked, "which isn't likely, now is it?"  
  
Archie laughed slightly, "Certainly not with a face like that, no." Crossing his arms, he nodded towards the innkeeper who's eyes widened somewhat.  
  
Moody took it a step further, offering the innkeeper a solemn smile and wave before going back to his glass. In a whisper, he said, "Why, I do believe he's getting angry."  
  
"Like a kettle about the explode, you suppose?" Lowe asked, taking it even further still and giving the slowly reddening man his most charming grin and a flamboyant wave.  
  
"I'd say that's a quite acceptable example, Mr. Lowe, judging from that blood vessel bulging from the man's forehead," Horatio laughed, rubbing at the side of his face.  
  
"I was more concerned by the cheeks, that seem to be getting broader by the moment," Lowe said, calmly, as the innkeeper whispered to the officer, indeed looking like a round red kettle.  
  
Moody shook his head, wondering how far the others would take the charade before they were pitched to the curb.  
  
"Perhaps we should listen to Mr. Moody," Archie commented, standing.  
  
"Eh, I suppose," Harold said, standing and giving the man a sharp white smile. James followed a moment later, heading for the stairs with a shake of the head and a chuckle. Even the prospect of death could not dampen the spirits of the young officers for long.  
  
Moving after the two men, Horatio couldn't help but grin. "So, which room, gentlemen?"  
  
"One's as good as another," Harold answered. "I guess we follow Jimmy and let him pick, as he seems to already have a plan of action and we would undoubtedly be thrown out if we were to stay here much longer."  
  
"Which would not be the best thing, judging by the temperature outside," Kennedy chuckled.  
  
"I'm surprised it's sunny at all," Hornblower conversed, "unless they found a cure for the rainy English days."  
  
"No, they haven't," Harry said, smiling as he climbed the steps. "What time I've spent has been bloody dreary." A few paces found Moody in their room, doing what he could to smooth his uniform jacket out.  
  
"Well, I certainly don't mind a nice rainy day, but it's the cold that makes me feel like I'm 45," the youngest admitted, stepping inside as well.  
  
"Double your age, I'll bet," James said, glancing back at them from where he was working on his uniform.  
  
"Damn close, actually." Archie nodded, watching Horatio and Harold move over to the window to talk. "Then again, it seems about right for you as well." Letting his hand rest behind his back, he regarded the uniform with a smile.  
  
"Twenty-four," Moody chuckled, finishing with the jacket. He set it aside, picking his tie up and putting it on before adding with a joking grin, "A boy among men."  
  
Harold took a brief moment to scoff before turning back to his conversation.  
  
"A boy at twenty-four, eh?" Casting a glance towards Horatio, Archie snickered, "Horatio Hornblower, the boy lieutenant."  
  
"Very funny," Horatio replied, moving over to pace around his younger friend with a slightly sardonic grin on his face. "All this coming from a man who's younger than myself, eh, Mr. Kennedy? Might I remind you that you're only a lieutenant as well, and have quite a few years up on myself."  
  
"Only because I enjoyed my time so much as a midshipman." He smirked, shaking his head.  
  
Lowe immediately took up on all of them, being the oldest of the troop and even as Horatio paced Archie, he paced Horatio. "The boy lieutenant, eh? Odd that you look like me, but I have four and some years up on you."  
  
"But a few inches less," Kennedy observed, stepping out of the circle to move against the wall. Leaning back, he judged their differences from his standpoint.  
  
"And a more sensible haircut," Harold snickered, putting an arm around Hornblower and facing Archie with a devil-may-care grin. "I suppose he would have been the rough draft, and I the finished product?"  
  
Moody laughed, rolling his eyes in mock disgust. "You certainly have him beat on arrogance, Harry."  
  
"If a man shrinks that much in a few years, then I fear I'll be just barely challenging Boney when it comes to height," Kennedy joked, shaking his head in disgust.  
  
Hornblower grinned mischievously. "Well, I don't think the problem would be so much the height, but that mug of yours."  
  
"What? There's nothing wrong with my face..."   
  
"Nothing wrong with it," Lowe affirmed, chewing down a smirk. "Aside from the fact you just don't have the classic profile Mr. Hornblower and myself are privileged with."  
  
"Ah yes, the jutting cheekbones and the rather defined nose," Moody said, coming to Archie's defense and ultimately his own. "Not to mention the look of a corpse you both have when you're tired--"  
  
Lowe grumbled something, turning on his friend and giving him a look of completely false fury. "Why you little sea-rat, I oughta..."  
  
Moody grinned. "What? I'm merely stating the obvious."  
  
Archie smiled widely, moving over next to Moody and crossing his arms. "Besides, I think we could take you two easily."  
  
Lowe frowned, looking at Hornblower. "Horatio, I do believe they're mutinying."  
  
"Who, us, sir? Oh no, sir," Moody protested, crossing his arms as well and drawing himself up to his somewhat formidable height.   
  
"Mutineers? By God, you'll hang by the yard arm for this!" Horatio smirked, finding it particularly easy to mimic Captain Sawyer.  
  
"Forget the hanging," Lowe said, nudging his twin in the ribs. "Let's deal with this the old fashioned way." And with a flying leap, the scrappy Welshman bowled into Moody, sending them both careening over a bed and onto the floor. The fight, though not in much earnest, was on.  
  
"Oh, it's a fight, is it?" Having already scuffled with Horatio, he wasn't able to take the older man by surprise, but the force that Archie hit his pseudo-enemy with caused them both to tumble to the ground.  



	6. Part V Resolutions Not Resignations

**Part 5 - Resolutions Not Resignations**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
How long the battle lasted was not certain, but by the time it was over, everyone had the typical scrapes and bruises that usually went with a fight. It was actually very enjoyable, despite that, however -- a chance to act as boys do, instead of the stiff formalities of men, and to cut loose on those who would not be angry for it when they awaken with stiff bodies. If anything, they all had that much in common; age hadn't deprived them of innocent rough housing, or the ability to laugh off whatever minor aches they would suffer for it.  
  
James stood finally, pulling himself from the tangled pile from which there was no winner and went to brushing his shirt off. "Do we admit draw, gentlemen, or should this battle for honor continue?"   
  
Leaning back against the wall, panting and wiping some blood from his mouth, Archie chuckled, "Honor? And here I thought it was for our lives."  
  
"By God, you're right!" Moody exclaimed, checking to make sure all of his teeth were intact.  
  
Lowe followed him to his feet, tilting his head back to stop his nose from bleeding. After a moment, he was able to look back down and say, "If you hadn't become disobedient, this thrashing wouldn't have had to happen."   
  
Moving up from the bottom of the pile, Horatio winced and tried to work the aches out of his neck. He was none worse for the wear other than that, however.  
  
"You're right, Mr. Lowe," the younger lieutenant grinned, "if only you'd have submitted."  
  
"To you, you impudent little whelp?!" Lowe cried, indignantly. "I would rather bed that innkeeper below, and if you want we can continue this." To emphasize his point, he put his fists up, both red-knuckled and scored with light scratches. It didn't take much time for any of them to realize that Kennedy and Lowe were the fiercest fighters, even in play, and had typically ended up beating on each other without paying a whole lot of mind to Moody and Hornblower.  
  
"The same innkeeper who's probably wondering how badly we've destroyed his room," James chuckled.  
  
"If you care to show your taste, that's just fine. As for a continuation, perhaps you should reconsider," Kennedy smirked, standing. "Been through too much to lose a fight to someone who's not even born in my time."  
  
"And lose you would," Lowe growled, though not taking any of the insults to heart.  
  
Moving over to sit on one of the beds, Horatio laughed, breaking in, "Let's not hurt ourselves too badly, gentlemen, we might need our wits for a real fight sooner or later."  
  
Moody grinned, taking a moment to retreat to the bathroom and clean his knuckles off. Lowe sat down opposite Horatio, smiling to himself. "I'll say, it's been a long time since I could get into a mix."  
  
"And you do quite well, if I might say so. I'd be glad to have you on my side of a battle any day." Offering a slightly wavering hand, he couldn't help but laugh.  
  
Harold shook it, giving him a formal nod of thanks. "The same to you, sir."  
  
"Please, don't call me sir... It's Horatio."  
  
"Horatio." Lowe nodded. "And I'm Harold... or Harry. Anything but Baby-Face will do."  
  
Moody snickered from the bathroom, but didn't comment.  
  
"Does that mean I can call Horatio Baby-Face?" Archie grinned.  
  
"No, Mr. Kennedy, you cannot," Hornblower replied, shaking his head.  
  
James finally jumped in, "Don't worry, he'll have to suffer that enough due to his resemblance to Harry. No use making him suffer it with friends."  
  
"Of course, Mr. Moody, you're quite right. I suppose I'll just settle to call him something akin to the backend of a mule." Laughing, the young lieutenant checked to see if his lip had stopped bleeding yet.  
  
"How about that, Mr. Hornblower?" Moody snickered, walking back out and looking like he hadn't been in much of a fight to begin with. "Jackass. I would have to say, Baby-Face would almost be better."  
  
Rubbing at the back of his neck, he winced slightly before replying, "Perhaps so, but I'm sure there are quite a few names that would be more scathing towards Archie over there, than jackass is to myself."  
  
"The Unbearded Lady perhaps," Lowe commented, offhand.  
  
"Ah, but that's nothing coming from the men who were bedded by the Queen Mum." Archie snickered, cuffing up his sleeves.  
  
Lowe raised an eyebrow, looking at Horatio in confusion. James looked just as baffled, though he had a sneaking suspicion that it would work in his favor anyway.  
  
"Bedded by the Queen Mum?" Horatio asked, incredulously.  
  
"Well, as far as that innkeeper knows, yes." Finishing one arm, the young officer moved on to the other.  
  
"You didn't..." Lowe mumbled, actually looking caught off guard.  
  
James had it all together by then and was consumed in laughter. "You did!"  
  
"Was I to just let you get away with your quip and have a chuckle? I think perhaps that would have been weak of me." Taking a moment, Kennedy blew into his hands. "Don't you think so, Mr. Moody?"  
  
Moody forced himself to composure, answering quite formally, "I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Kennedy."  
  
"And you really think Harry and I will let you get away with that?" Horatio asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Archie.  
  
"On the contrary, I've already gotten away with it," the younger man grinned.  
  
Lowe found a smile somewhere, though the idea of the Queen Mum was enough to make his stomach turn. "Maybe, but there's always vengeance."  
  
"Quite true, yes. And there's always the same for us." Letting out a slight yawn, Archie rested his arms on his knees and looked to Moody. "So, what now?"  
  
"I suppose we try to find out how to get back to where we should be," Jimmy said, sitting down next to Lowe. There was so much to think about in regard to the _Titanic_ that he almost hesitated to go back into that line of thought. "There must be some extraordinary force causing this."  
  
Horatio nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Or perhaps just some odd dream."  
  
"We can only hope." Lowe flopped back on the bed, eyeing the ceiling with a distant look.  
  
Sitting quietly, the young Mr. Kennedy let his mind wander back to the street where he read the numbers and the names. Fifteen hundred people were going to die, including the man who had cared enough to tell him he was going to end up dying for the sake of Horatio and the crew he worked with. Shaking his head, he accidentally let his thoughts slip out in quiet spoken words, "We have to keep it from happening..."  
  
"If we can get back in the first place," Harold muttered. The situation was enough to frustrate him, and he hated sitting idly by, unable to even show his face much at this point for fear of being recognized by former shipmates.  
  
"We will, if the newspaper reads right. Was the morning of the 11th, right?" Moody asked, glancing over his shoulder at Lowe.  
  
"Yes. Round and about three in the morning."  
  
"So we went from morning of the 11th, to some time none of us are sure of, to today, which is the 18th." Moody stood, pacing around with a furrowed brow and a look of concentration. "Titanic went down on the morning of the 15th and took 1500 people with her. The report said I was there, so I have to get back somehow."  
  
"It didn't exactly say that you were there. Just that you weren't rescued," Archie attempted, somewhat pitifully.  
  
"It also didn't mention that Mr. Lowe went down with the ship," James countered.  
  
"How would I have gotten off the ship before you?" Lowe sat up suddenly, agitated. "It makes no sense! You're the junior-most officer -- by rights, you should have been the first officer off of the ship. And certainly before Mr. Lightoller."  
  
"We don't know how he survived."  
  
"No, but I doubt luck saved him, Mr. Pitman, Mr. Boxhall _and_ myself."  
  
"Maybe I did make it off," James persisted, trying to look at every option, "and something happened between the time she sank and the time that _Carpathia_ arrived."  
  
Horatio finally broke into the conversation, "I don't think that speculating will do us much good when so many things could have happened."  
  
Kennedy looked up from his spot against the wall, looking over Hornblower's face in search of some sign of emotion. "And we're just supposed to sit here and accept it? I can't do that..."  
  
Raising a questioning eyebrow at the speaker, Horatio put his hands behind his back. "Could I possibly have a word with you in private, Mr. Kennedy?"  
  
Looking down in a look that neared defeat, he nodded and pulled himself to his feet. "Certainly, sir."  
  
"If you'll excuse us, gentlemen?" The older lieutenant asked, looking first to Moody, then Lowe.  
  
"Certainly," Lowe answered. Moody nodded, giving Archie a look of mild worry, but he didn't say anything.  
  
Nodding to them both in appreciation, he waited for Kennedy to move out the door, then followed him out into the hallway. Moving past the Fourth Lieutenant, he stepped down in front of the door to their own room and leaned back against it, crossing his arms. "All right, out with it."  
  
Archie stood across from him, once again looking over his companion's face for some telltale sign of what might be on his mind. "Out with what, Horatio?"  
  
"Well, Archie," Hornblower continued, enunciating his friends name a little heavier than usual, "forgive me if I'm wrong, but you seem to be quite determined to go and save this ship that we know nothing about."   
  
Looking down at the ground, he kicked at the planked floors lightly. "Can't I be concerned?"  
  
"Of course you can be concerned, but you look as if you're willing to get between the ship and the iceberg! We're supposed to be back on the _Renown_, and if you get killed in the midst of this whole mess, not only will the crew back home suffer, but I'll have lost my best friend." Horatio sighed slightly, fidgeting for the moment of silence that followed his words.  
  
"What matter is it if I die here or back in our own time?" The words were quiet, but Kennedy certainly had some bitter tone in his voice.  
  
Frowning, the older man stood straight, looking over his friend with a suspicious air to him. Letting his eyebrows knit together, he took a step forward. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Sighing audibly, Archie shook his head and crossed his arms as well. "Never mind."  
  
"Never mind nothing," Horatio insisted, putting his hands at his sides purposefully. "What did you mean by that, Mr. Kennedy?"  
  
Finally raising his eyes to look his friend square in the face, Archie set his jaw before replying, "I meant nothing by it..." he paused, "...sir." Waiting for the look he expected, he was awarded with it when Horatio sighed heavily and let his eyes close in frustration. Taking the opportunity, he turned and moved down the hallway.  
  
Realizing that the man he was questioning had just left, Hornblower cursed himself quietly and looked after him. "Archie, wait!" By the time he'd finished his words, Archie was already out of sight, presumably down the stairs. Sighing to himself, he shook his head, not sure if he should follow or not, leaning first his body back against the wall, then his head.  
  
  
  
Back with the _Titanic_ officers, silence had fallen thick and stifling. Moody was busy doing the best he could to clean out his uniform shirt, scrubbing away at the fabric over the basin. It served to keep him busy, his thoughts more or less on the task at hand, and he didn't allow himself to dwell too heavily on his own death or that of the ship he was assigned to.  
  
Lowe, on the other hand, had nothing to occupy himself with, so his mind turned the situation over and over in a maddening cycle as he paced. He thought about the _Titanic_, and about the days in Belfast and then on the way to Southampton where he made one of the few truly good friends he had in his life. Perhaps the entire length of that friendship was a matter of weeks rather than years, and perhaps it might not have happened at all if he wasn't bored on his off time one evening and tagged along with James on the rounds, but now that he had a solid friend, he would be damned if he would give that up.  
  
Harold's entire life was that of a sailor, it seemed. He had gone to sea young and brave, working his way through the ranks. Most of his runs had been along the coast of Africa, and briefly on the Australian track, but he had enjoyed that life -- a good deal of the time had been spent on schooners and other sailing vessels. In a way, he could relate well with Horatio and Archie for that fact alone... were it another time, a time where steam wasn't destroying the sailing industry, Lowe would have been content to stay on the ships of sheet and wood.  
  
Casting his mind back, he remembered volunteering to re-rig a sail during a violent storm, citing that it wouldn't matter much to him if he died on the yard or on the deck. And such was true; he wasn't the least bit afraid to shimmy up the ratlines, or crawl out precariously onto the yard arm.  
  
Truth be told, he had no real fear of dying on the _Titanic_ or any other ship either. He knew that when the time came he would take it like a man.  
  
None of that helped him now, though, as he stared into the face of a grinning death, and found that face not looking to him but to his friend instead. To Jimmy, who was only twenty-four, and who had a highly promising career ahead of him. Who always had a handy joke or a sympathetic ear, and who had made a friend in Harry with that sincerity and good-nature. It was much harder to swallow, and much more upsetting. If he was to live, it wasn't fair that Moody was to die.  
  
Lowe cast a look at his friend, frowning to himself. "Coming clean?"  
  
"Quite well," Moody answered, offhand, as he hung the shirt up to dry. "How d'you suppose the other two are doing?"  
  
"I haven't a clue, but it seemed pretty grim when they left."  
  
"I hope they work it out..."  
  
Harold nodded, finally sitting down again and hopefully resolving himself to think of other things. "Me too. Nothing quite like being in the middle of a quarrel."  
  
  
  
The air outside was slightly chilly, but that didn't bother Archie as he stood at the edge of the water, overlooking the ocean ahead of him. He hadn't really meant to be short with his friend, but between finding out that he was going to die and Jimmy was as well, he wasn't able to stay in his right mind. Why should Horatio question his actions? They were his alone, and even though the older man was still his superior, Kennedy didn't feel that off of the ship he would have to answer for himself. Looking back, though, he realized that perhaps he was the wrong party in the whole confrontation.  
  
Sighing, the young Fourth Lieutenant sat down on the edge of the dock and let his mind wander. It hadn't been until he let the words sink in, and realized just exactly how many people would go down when the _Titanic_ sank, that he couldn't help but shudder. A death at sea is something a sailor accepts, and even expects, but most of these people weren't sailors. Heck, many of them probably had never even crossed an ocean before, and would never again.  
  
Fifteen hundred people even wouldn't have been so bad if Archie didn't know that there were women and children among them... and the man he had grown to become friends with in such a short time. It angered him to see James so calm and collected about death, and he almost envied the Sixth Officer for it. He had tried to be strong when Jimmy had told him about his own death, but Kennedy was still afraid, deep down inside. He didn't want to bring shame to his family, but if what was said turns out to be true, he would have to sacrifice himself for Horatio's career. He would at least know then that something good would come out of the whole situation.  
  
He had been sitting on the dock quite a while when he finally heard footsteps behind him, and looked over to see Horatio sit down, his uniform jacket back on to serve against the cold. Giving his friend a slight smile, Archie then looked back out over the water. "Hey."  
  
"Hey," Hornblower replied, typically, resting his hands on the dock. "Mind if I join you?"  
  
"Already sat down, didn't you?" Kennedy couldn't help but laugh a bit, shaking his head. "Sure."  
  
Horatio nodded, doing his best to relax and take in what sunlight he could. England wasn't exactly known for her sunny days, so he was certainly going to take advantage of it. Letting them both remain silent, he trained his eyes on the horizon before finally speaking again, "I'm sorry for questioning you, up there. I'm sure what ever is wrong is none of my business."  
  
"Actually, to be honest, it could almost be said that you are the business, and it was your right to question me," Archie replied, leaning back on the dock and allowing his elbows to support him and he squinted in the sunlight.  
  
"What do you mean I am the business?"  
  
"Well," the younger man continued, "you see, when you and Mr. Lowe were sleeping at the other inn Jimmy told me that at some point I'm going to die for the sake of the ship, but I won't have my name when I do." He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, and hoped futilely it was good enough.  
  
Hornblower frowned, trying to take in the words as they came to him. Letting his face turn to a dour expression, he looked over at Archie. "That doesn't sound like you. I mean, not the first part, but how would you die without having your name intact?"  
  
Kennedy made an attempt to shrug in the awkward position. "Not completely sure."  
  
"Well, it doesn't seem right to me. Perhaps he's mistaken?" Hornblower's last few words came out more in a hopeful tone than a questioning, and he looked over at his companion.  
  
"I don't think so, Horatio. He seems like a person who doesn't forget things when he commits them to memory. I believe him."  
  
"You shouldn't," the older man replied, adamantly.  
  
Shaking his head, Archie looked over the horizon, idly searching for any sails on the water without knowing he was doing it. "Well, I'm not going to dismiss the possibility, and I'm certainly not going to let him sit there and take death on so easily when he's the one that told me about my own. He told me so I could try to prevent it, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to try to do the same for him."  
  
Hornblower nodded slightly, though disbelieving. "You hardly know him, though, Archie..."  
  
"And he hardly knows me." Looking over at his friend, Kennedy raised a questioning eyebrow. "That didn't stop him, did it?"  
  
Sighing, the Third Lieutenant reached up to rub his eyes, letting the conversation fall off to silence, which at that point was the most comfortable thing for both of them. As they did so, the chilly wind blew through their hair and strung their eyes, but neither were bothered by it, after having been on the sea for so much of their lives. Wind had become their friend over the years, and the telltale sign that said whether they were going to live or die, at times.  
  
When Horatio finally came back to reality, he looked over to see Archie still lost in his own thoughts. Smiling slightly, he realized that no matter what he did, it was his friend's decision whether to fight the battle that could cost him his life, and the older man nodded. "Are you going to be all right, then?"   
  
Snapping out of the light trance he was in, Kennedy looked over at his friend, slightly off-guard, and not quite sure where he was at the moment. Staring for a brief moment, he then blinked and nodded, "Yes," and then nodding again, he looked back over the water. "Yes, I think so."  
  
"Well, just don't stay out here too long or you'll catch your--" Cutting himself off, Horatio, looked down at the ground for a moment. "You'll find yourself ill." Patting his friend on the back, he stood and brushed his uniform off, moving back towards the inn.  
  
  
  
It was perhaps an hour later when the youngest of the four finally moved back into the inn. The sun was just leveling off in the center of the sky, and despite the chilly air, the sun had done some good to give the short man a slight sweat. So, returning inside, he was hoping to go upstairs and get cleaned up, only to find his way blocked by Harold Lowe with his arms crossed in front of him. "What's this I hear about you getting killed?"  
  
"Horatio told you, did he?" Archie made an attempt to step past Lowe, only to be stopped once again.  
  
Harry gave his companion a look that was affectionate, but still stern. "He did, and if he hadn't you and Jimmy would have kept it to yourselves."  
  
Stepping back, Kennedy nodded and placed his hands behind his back. "Probably, yes."  
  
"Why?" Lowe gestured forward and walked with the young lieutenant to a table.  
  
Archie sat down at the table, immediately picking up the unlit candle to keep his hands from fidgeting. "Why not?"  
  
"Well, we can do something about it. It was bad enough finding out about Jimmy from the bloody papers, but finding out about you through Horatio and having you act as if it's nothing?" Harold shook his head, sitting back in his chair.  
  
"It is nothing," Kennedy insisted, picking at some wax and tossing it across the table.  
  
"Well, it certainly doesn't seem like nothing to your friend up there that's been upset since he came inside," the older man replied, looking over at Archie.  
  
"And that's why I really didn't want to tell him. He'll worry about me, but he shouldn't."  
  
Sighing, Harold seemed to be frustrated. "And why shouldn't he?"  
  
Archie looked over at him, setting the candle down and folding his hands in front of him. "Because everyone dies sooner or later, and knowing Horatio, he'll blame it on himself." Judging the emotion on his companion's face, he continued on with a sigh of his own, "Look, Harold, it doesn't bother me that it can happen. I joined His Majesty's Navy because I would rather die on a ship than sit in some office in the middle of the city."  
  
"That doesn't make it any easier for us." Lowe nodded to the barkeeper as he brought some water for them both, and waiting until the cups were on the table and the man was gone before continuing, "I mean, we can't just sit by."  
  
"It's nothing that couldn't have happened before. Both of us could have been killed countless different times; it just changes the circumstances when everyone knows about it."  
  
Nodding, Harold sighed slightly, taking a sip of water. It seemed like things were getting worse and worse for the Fifth Officer. Looking over at Archie, he took a deep breath. "Well, forgive us if we worry, Mr. Kennedy."  
  
"As you wish, Mr. Lowe," the younger man replied, standing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I should be getting back upstairs." Nodding amiably to Harry, he flashed a grin and moved away from the table to go upstairs.  
  
Harold watched him go before leaning his elbows on the table and resting his face in his hands. The entire calamity was wearing him thin of patience and energy, leaving him irritable and tired. In the matter of two days, he had been yanked from his place on _Titanic_, thrown in with a twin of himself from the past, and now he had to face the fact that not only would his best friend die, but so would Horatio's.  
  
Lowe was nearly at wits end. Normally he could do quite well with anything thrown his way, but this was well beyond his abilities. He knew that the ship was going to go down, that James was going to die, and that he had to get back there to stop it. Where Horatio and Archie came into it was completely a mystery, though he found himself getting more and more comfortable with their presence.  
  
The sigh that escaped him was disheartened and heavy, as he looked back up. His already dark eyes looked even blacker than normal thanks to the half-circles under them brought on by stress, and he looked quite near as melancholy as he felt at that point. After another moment, he stood and went back upstairs, squaring his shoulders against the invisible weight that was pressing on them and trying to look more alive than he was feeling.  
  
Moody glanced up when he came in, now re-sewing a button on his uniform jacket with thread and a needle he had found somewhere. It was mostly jesting when the younger man commented, "You look like hell."  
  
"I feel like hell," Lowe answered, pacing for a moment before sitting down. "Damn you both, for being so accepting."  
  
James flinched slightly at the tired epitaph, for even if it held no malice, it showed very well the depth of frustration his friend was suffering. "Harry, everyone dies. Whether it's of old age or on a sinking ship isn't of much consequence."  
  
"Isn't it?! Good God, you've got everything to live for!" Lowe cried out, standing, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. "You didn't want Archie to accept his fate, but you accept yours?!"  
  
"His fate's far worse than mine, Harold," Moody said, quietly. "Besides, if we can't somehow prevent her going down, I would rather die there than later on of disease or age."  
  
"You're a fool," Lowe murmured, dropping back on the bed like someone had taken every bit of energy from him. Almost to himself, he added, "I'm not going to let it happen."  
  
"I'm not exactly wishing for it myself, you know," James pointed out, then tied the thread off and surveyed his handiwork.  
  
"No, you're just too accepting of it. Too willing to sit there and say, 'Well, that's life and death, so I might as well not fight it.'"  
  
"I have every intention of fighting it. But working myself up with worry isn't going to make the situation any better."  
  
"I suppose you're right," Harold grumbled, though it was just barely conceding.  
  
Moody shook his head, regarding his friend for a long moment before he pulled his uniform jacket on. "Of course I'm right."  
  
"And conceited," Lowe added, smiling slightly.  
  
"This coming from you? Arrogance personified?" James grinned wider still, sensing the shift in the air and making use of it. "You know, let he who's without sin cast the first stone."  
  
Harold picked himself up to lean on his elbows, looking at the ground off the side of the bed. After a brief search, he let himself fall back with a devilish smirk. "Well, I'll have to wait until I get outside to find some stones, won't I?"  
  
  
  
When Archie finally returned to his room, he noted that Horatio already had his uniform jacket off and was resting in bed. Looking over his friend, he noted the light breathing and dismissed Hornblower as sleeping as he picked up his own jacket off the bed he had chosen. Brushing the older uniform off, Kennedy couldn't help but worrying about everyone being so upset. Why should they worry if he and James weren't? He didn't look over the fact that Horatio cared for him, but sometimes he wished the slightly older man wouldn't. There were too many times in both their lives that Archie had unnecessarily risked Horatio's life, so he couldn't quite figure why they even stuck together.  
  
Perhaps it was the fact that he thought of the Third Lieutenant more as a best friend than a superior, that made Kennedy smile when hearing of Hornblower's promotion. Despite the fact that Horatio had less seniority, he was the type of person the Royal Navy was looking for, and Archie dealt with that fact that he wasn't, and probably never would be. With a sigh and a sidelong glance at Horatio, he rested his uniform jacket over the back of the chair where the other officer's was laying. Then, carefully, he brushed some dust off of his hat and laid down on his own bed, rubbing his eyes.  
  
Had he been honest to himself, he would have admitted that he felt like crying, but pride kept him from doing so, and he rested his arm over his eyes. It had been a long time since he had been off the water for such a great length of time, but he could still feel the swell of the waves and the rolling of the ship, even when he wasn't on the water. The feeling of being on the ocean was something that Kennedy was sure that he'd remember for a lifetime and there after. It was in his blood by then, and even if he was going to die, he would much rather it be on the ocean.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Kennedy let out a slight whisper so as not to wake the other man, "Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."  
  
"Shakespeare still has his name, Archie," Horatio replied just as quietly, surprising the younger man. He had a point, and he wasn't going to back down until he had proven it.  
  
"That doesn't change the fact." Lifting his arm and resting it behind his head, he looked over at Hornblower. "You don't need to worry about me, Horatio."  
  
Sighing deeply but leaving his eyes closed, the Third Lieutenant nodded. "And you don't need to worry about me, but you do. I'm not going to let you just take this on without your bloody guns loaded."  
  
Chuckling lightly, Kennedy nodded. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll be kickin' and screamin' if Death does come after me. I have no intent on leaving until you know that I'm a better officer," the younger man jested, laughing and replacing his arm over his eyes.  
  
"Glad to hear it," Horatio replied sincerely, smiling in the light of the room and letting the warmth pull him into a nice, mostly peaceful half-sleep. Somehow it was very comforting to know that Archie wasn't resigned to his fate.  
  



	7. Part VI The History of Rogaine, 1912

**Part VI - The History of Rogaine, 1912**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
When James awoke again, he was immediately unsurprised to find himself in his small cabin on _Titanic_. He reached over and flicked the single light on, picking his silver pocket-watch up from where it had been sitting on the writing table. He was due on watch in twenty minutes.  
  
Then he remembered, and he was out of bed as quick as a shot. It didn't take him long to pull on a clean uniform and get dressed for duty, though for once he wasn't completely fastidious in his appearance -- he was too busy worrying about where Harold had ended up to be as neat as he normally was. Rubbing his eyes with fierce quickness, he restrained himself from running out of his cabin and onto the Bridge.   
  
Chief Officer Henry Wilde was there, a powerfully built man whose strength seemed no less diminished by the usually passive look he had on his face, and Moody touched his hat in greeting. "Sir."  
  
"Morning, Mr. Moody," Wilde answered, giving the younger officer a slight smile before turning back to the log book and clipboard he was holding. "A little early for watch, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes sir," James said, nodding in agreement.  
  
"Very good then."  
  
Moody nodded again, crisply, and slipped out to the port side to see if he could find Lowe. He would have just been getting back from the second round then, and he usually took the port side, though he'd walked the starboard with Moody countless times. But instead of Harold Lowe, the sight that greeted him made him gasp.  
  
Horatio Hornblower was on the deck of _Titanic_, in full early 19th century uniform.  
  
Leaning over the side of the ship to look over the make, the young lieutenant frowned and looked around once again. Things were getting stranger by the minute, and as he took off his hat, he spotted Moody. "Ah, Mr. Moody."  
  
"Jesus!" Moody nearly yelped, then looked around to make sure no one had seen. Hurrying over, he dropped his voice to a semi-urgent whisper, "We need to get you out of sight, and quickly."  
  
Nodding, Horatio realized that he was in territory that was vastly unfamiliar. "Lead on, good sir."  
  
James quickly dodged towards the side door that would lead into the Officer's Quarters, when a calm voice broke in that held no small amount of skepticism. "Mr. Moody?"  
  
Moody stopped, cringing. "Sir?"  
  
Wilde looked out, trying to see who the figure was that was walking with the junior officer. "Is everything in order?"  
  
Thinking it best to keep his mouth shut, Horatio stood at attention in the way he was used to, the buttons on his uniform gleaming and his hat now set precisely on his head.  
  
Moody thought as fast as he could, which was damn quick now that he needed to come up with some sort of story that his Chief would believe. "No, sir. I think Mr. Lowe here is suffering from the influences of The Coffee, sir."  
  
Wilde walked over, his blue eyes wider than normal as he paced around Horatio in complete and utter disbelief. "The Coffee, you say?"  
  
James cringed a little lower. "Yes, sir."  
  
Searching through his mind, but never once letting his eyes move from their position straight on, Horatio continued on, "I don't believe I've quite learned to avoid the appalling substance yet, sir."  
  
Henry frowned, eyebrows drawn as he took in the long ponytail, the uniform, the manner his Fifth Officer was bearing as he stood, and perhaps most noticeably, the lack of the Welsh accent. "I should say not, Mr. Lowe." Shaking his head, the tall man tried to find some rational explanation for the entire change, but he couldn't find a hint of one. Sure, that coffee had done a number on him the day before, but not quite _that_ big a number. Stopping in front of Horatio, he studied his face for a moment before saying, "You're at the end of watch. I suggest you be properly attired and presented when you come back on."  
  
"Aye aye, sir," Hornblower replied, appropriately and quite snappily.  
  
Henry blinked once, twice, then looked to Moody. "Carry on." And with that, the tired and very confused Chief walked back onto the Bridge, vowing silently to himself that he would at least make an attempt to sleep as soon as he could get a chance.  
  
Moody let out a faint sigh of relief, opening the side door and waiting for Hornblower to follow. "That was too close."  
  
"Indeed." Nodding and looking after the Chief, Horatio finally allowed himself to take James's suggestion, and walked through the side door that had been opened for him. "Thank you."  
  
"Welcome," James answered, quickly. He pointed to the right side of the hall once they reached the branch, "There's my cabin," and to the left side, "and there's Harry's." Stepping over to the Fifth Officer's quarters, he pushed the door open and stepped in. Committing both rooms to his precise memory, Hornblower followed the Sixth Officer into the room, remaining silent.  
  
"You'll have to try to find a uniform, and do something with that hair," Moody said, quietly, checking his watch again. "You're not due up on the Bridge for another four hours, so make the best use of it you can, and I'll see what I can do about smoothing this over."  
  
"Something with the hair?" Horatio repeated the question as if not understanding.  
  
"Regulations say short back and sides," James answered, "so you'll have to cut it, or find some way to hide it."   
  
Nodding resolutely, Hornblower looked over Moody with a stern look he saved for his superiors. Waiting a moment, he frowned slightly. "Do you think it's possible to hide it?"  
  
"Not that I know of, but either way it'll have to be taken care of." James stepped out backwards, dropping his voice to a whisper, "Good luck, Horatio, and I'll be back as quickly as I can be." Then he turned, smartly, and headed for the Bridge.  
  
Hornblower, at a loss for words even if he would have had someone to use them on, blinked a few times and looked around the cabin that was allotted for the Fifth Officer. Surprised by it accommodations, he smiled slightly, but soon it faded along with his good humor and he quickly went to find a uniform that would fit.  
  
Lowe's uniform wasn't too much different from Horatio's own uniform, save for the fact that everything was just slightly too short for good tastes. Mentally cursing himself, Hornblower took to pulling out the stitching in hopes to solve the problem in some small degree, and hoped that Harold would forgive him for it.   
  
Finishing, he noted how much lighter the uniform was in comparison to his own lieutenant's uniform and couldn't help but smile. Even with the stitching taken out, the sleeves felt too short, but Horatio noted that it didn't seem too terribly bad when he finally looked in the mirror. Addressing his hair, however, he noted that it sat lazily behind him even when tied up. Trying various ways to keep his hair from showing, he finally decided on a certain style and sat down on the bed, leaving himself to remember it for a later time.  
  
- --------- - --  
  
_The log of the day for April 11th, 1912, 2:00 AM to 6:00 AM  
  
Officer of the Watch: H. T. Wilde - Chief  
Junior Officers (Midnight to 4:00 AM): H. J. Pitman - Third, H. G. Lowe - Fifth  
Junior Officers (4:00 AM - 8:00 AM): J. G. Boxhall - Fourth, J. P. Moody - Sixth  
  
Notes: Clear conditions, making good time. No warnings of ice in the vicinity. Wind minimal, fresh water fine. Coffee in Officer's Mess still in need of disposal.  
  
Reports: Minor disturbance in steerage. Master-at-Arms called, and no arrests made. Officer Pitman reports "All's well" on starboard rounds. Officer Lowe grew a foot of hair between the beginning of port rounds and the end, and was dressed in an old style Navy uniform.  
  
No other reports to be made.  
  
OOW,  
(signed) H. T. Wilde - Chief Officer  
  
_- --------- - --  
  
James Moody was not a happy person as he watched the sun rising over the ocean, pacing the decks of the Starboard side. He was too busy worrying over how Horatio was going to take Lowe's place, and how Wilde was thinking of the entire situation. The Chief had given him a completely peculiar look when he had walked back onto the Bridge, but hadn't commented. Now, as he got back, he noted that the Second Officer, Charles Lightoller, had relieved Wilde. Swallowing any concerns and putting on a pleasant expression, he touched his hat to Lightoller. "Good morning, sir."  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Moody," Lightoller answered, formally and smoothly as he noted the position and time in the ship's log, thankfully not actually reading Wilde's entry before his. "Sleep well?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Thank you."  
  
"Quite good."  
  
Off the side of the Bridge, an exuberant Scotsman made his way to Lightoller and Moody. Rubbing his gloved hands together in the morning chill, First Officer William Murdoch couldn't help but grin at the other two officers. "Good morning, gentlemen!"  
  
Lightoller gave him a look that spoke of a longtime friendship, but said formally, "Good morning, sir."  
  
"Sir," Moody added, also unable to hide a grin. Murdoch had a personality that could make a friend of anyone -- cheerful and pure officer all at once.  
  
"An uneventful night, I'm sure," Will commented, glancing out over the sea for a moment. "And a beautiful morning to end it with."  
  
"We've had good luck on weather," Lights agreed, standing with Will and looking out as well. "Though it's still a bit too chilly at night."  
  
Henry paced back onto the Bridge with a cup of tea, waiting out to go on his daily inspection parade with the Captain. "Gentlemen."  
  
"Sir," Lightoller answered, nodding in Wilde's direction.  
  
"Chief." Murdoch grinned, tipping his head to the superior officer. Pausing a moment, he put his hands behind his back. "Cap'n's not up and about yet, eh?"  
  
Wilde shook his head in answer, tossing a nervous glance at Lightoller... it was apparent that the other officer hadn't noted his log entry with too much attention, and it made the Chief relax slightly. He still wasn't quite sure why he even noted that in the log, but most of it had to do with wanting to make certain he wasn't having an odd feverish dream, sleep or no.  
  
Chuckling lightly, the good humored First Officer looked over Henry with a grin. "Feeling all right, Henry?"  
  
Wilde coughed slightly, "That's open to debate, Will." He didn't fail to notice Moody go a little pale out of the corner of his eye, but decided to wait until Lowe was out to see if he really was seeing things, or if that strangeness had occurred.  
  
"Debate?" Raising an eyebrow slightly, Will dismissed it for the moment until they were alone to talk, then shook his head and looked to the paled Moody. "And what of you, Mr. Moody?"  
  
"J-just fine, sir," Moody stuttered in answer, not failing to notice Wilde's odd glance. "And you, sir?"  
  
"Quite well, thank you." Shaking his head, he watched the expressions on both Henry and James's faces and frowned, not entirely sure what might have been happening.  
  
Henry apparently came to a decision and picked up the log that Lightoller had just set back in it's place, slipping out to the port side with a glance at Murdoch that beckoned him to follow. Moody swallowed hard and inched his way in that direction, as discreetly as he could.  
  
Moving off of the bridge to follow Henry, Will rubbed his hands together once again, wondering what kind of situation could have turned the deck crew into such nervous people. "Is everything all right, sir?"  
  
Wilde frowned slightly, for a moment tempted to forget everything, but that was short lived. Without so much as a word, he offered the log.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, the First Officer took the log and began to look over the entries. Nodding a few times, it took him a moment to realize what he was reading. Murdoch looked over at Wilde with a frown. "Mr. Lowe...?"  
  
The look on Henry's face was indescribable, but it was definitely sincere, and a good bit baffled. "Will, it was the damnedest thing I've ever seen."  
  
"And you're sure you're feeling all right, Henry? Have you slept at all?" Inquiring, Will closed the log and looked his friend over.  
  
For a moment, the Chief seemed to lose his usually cool composure, and returned that look. "You know I haven't slept well, but that's besides the point." Wilde's eyebrows went up in an earnest expression. "Have I ever said anything I wasn't sure of?"  
  
Shaking his head resolutely, the First Officer continued, "Not as long as I've known you at least, but Henry, a foot of hair?"  
  
"A foot. A foot of hair." Henry nodded, very sincerely. "And what's more is, he certainly wasn't wearing his proper uniform, and he seemed... how do I say this? too quick to follow orders."  
  
"Mr. Lowe too quick to follow orders? I have to see this myself." Will grinned. Harold Lowe was a good officer and an incredible seaman, but it hadn't taken any of them more than a day to see he was also very much his own man. He always seemed to hesitate when ordered to do something, as though making sure that those orders made at least some sense, and to see him following orders without that hesitation would be a sight indeed.  
  
Henry took his watch out, then nodded with a slight grin himself. "Well, he's due up on watch here in a matter of ten minutes give or take."  
  
Placing the log under his arm, Murdoch nodded. "Shall we get back, then?"  
  
"Certainly," Wilde said, and walked back onto the Bridge as if the entire insane conversation never took place. He shot a look to Moody. "Mr. Moody, if you'd be so kind as to fetch Mr. Lowe to the Bridge..."  
  
Moody went a few shades whiter, but he nodded with a mumbled, "Aye, sir," and slipped back through the chartroom to the cabins. As quietly as he could, he knocked on the cabin normally allotted to the Fifth Officer.  
  
Horatio, in a near moment of panic, reached for a gun that no longer laid at his hip. Sighing and shaking his head, he moved over to the door. "Who is it?" His voice seemed raspy as he whispered the sharp words.  
  
"James," came the equally quiet reply.  
  
Quickly opening the door to let the Sixth Officer in, he stepped back. As Moody stepped inside, he reached over for the hat he knew was for the uniform he wore then.  
  
Moody looked him up and down before an unbidden smile crossed his face. Damn, but he did look just like Harold if you didn't notice the few inches more and the few pounds less... other than that, and the tail, they would have confused anyone who didn't know them well were they to stand next to each other. But the smile faded, and he took on a solemn tone, "Mr. Wilde wants you on the Bridge."  
  
"Whatever for," Hornblower nearly snapped, then let a sigh pass beyond his lips. "I would guess that it's time for me to go on duty, is it not?"  
  
James nodded, swallowing his fear as well as he could. "I'll try to stay with you, and hopefully they'll take the coffee explanation and leave it at that." Under his breath, he muttered, "Not likely, but we can try."  
  
Carefully cleaning up his appearance as he was so used to, Horatio glanced at James with a slightly worried smile. "Is there anything important I should remember?"  
  
Jimmy quickly searched through his memories, then decided on the most ready and important information. "Your name's Harold Godfrey Lowe, you're twenty-nine, your posting before this was on the _Belgic_, and you're Welsh."  
  
Committing the words to memory, he repeated them quietly as his tucked his hair into his collar. "..._Belgic_, Wel-- Welsh?! How in am I supposed to be Welsh, Mr. Moody?"  
  
Moody frowned for a moment before answering seriously, "Try not to say too much. Keep everything to one word answers if you can."  
  
"One word answers?" Shaking his head, Horatio set the hat on top of his head and pulled his uniform into order. "Well, one can do nothing more than try."  
  
"Good luck," James said, patting him on the shoulder. He turned on his heel and walked out, composing himself as well as he could, and said a mental prayer as he walked onto the Bridge.  
  
Following James's example, Hornblower walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a sharp click. Moving down to the Bridge, he stepped in front of the gathered officers with the slightest hesitation.  
  
Wilde looked them both over with a keen eye before nodding to them. "Gentlemen." In truth, he was trying to see if that damned hair was still there, but in a moment of uncharacteristic self-doubt, decided not to make it too obvious.  
  
"Sir," Horatio replied, sternly, but not forcefully.  
  
Murdoch, looking over them as well, moved around "Mr. Lowe" to replace the log, quite obviously out of the way for such a walk. Raising an eyebrow as he stepped back to his former spot, he looked to Wilde.  
  
"Sir," Moody said, respectfully, trying to shrink as far into the background as possible without actually doing so.  
  
Henry looked to Will, eyebrow raised in silent questioning while Lightoller watched the entire charade with a somewhat bemused expression.  
  
Placing his arms behind his back, Murdoch flashed a smile at the junior most officer, then looked to the Fifth Officer, his joyful expression remaining. "I trust you rested well, Mr. Lowe?"  
  
"Quite, sir," Hornblower replied, stoically.  
  
"Recovering from your coffee fiasco?" Wilde asked, slipping into a somewhat warm look himself. He was more than content to let Will lead this little session -- the First Officer had a way of prying information out of people without them even realizing it. Very few people knew that better than Henry and Charles.  
  
Lightoller didn't add anything, but now they had his full attention, and he went to pick up the log again for the sake of pretending to be absorbed into something else.  
  
Hornblower, trained through his years on a ship with an austere Captain, didn't allow his dark brown eyes to move from the point where he had focused them. "Yes, sir, I believe so."  
  
"We thought for sure that you would." Will nodded, glancing to the other two senior officers before returning his glance to Horatio. "Why, you seem to feel a lot better, Mr. Lowe. It's not very often that you can stand up so straight for so long."  
  
Nodding once, Hornblower tried not to smile at the obvious compliment, not realizing that it wasn't much of one for the person who he pretended to be. "Thank you, sir."  
  
Lightoller coughed.  
  
Wilde glanced over.  
  
Lightoller mouthed, out of view of Hornblower, "A foot?"  
  
Wilde nodded.  
  
Lightoller blinked.  
  
Walking around the Fifth Officer and barely noting the glances between the other two, Murdoch grinned. "How long has it been since you've visited the barber, Mr. Lowe?"  
  
"Sir?" Horatio mentally winced at his replying, knowing for sure that it was weak of him not to have a straight answer.  
  
"Just as I asked. How long has it been since you last paid a visit to the barber?" Carefully, he looked "Mr. Lowe" in the eyes and held his stare for a moment before proceeding to take off his gloves.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Horatio finally let a sidelong glance move over Moody before returning his eyes straight ahead. "I would have to say just before boarding, sir." In reality, he wasn't lying, but wasn't telling the full truth either. He had managed to get his hair trimmed respectably before boarding the _Renown_, but much of the cut didn't show so long later.   
  
"Quite an amazing growth spurt, Mr. Lowe," Wilde commented, and was agreed with by Lights.  
  
"It must have been The Coffee, sir, somehow it must have--" Moody started stammering, basically a nervous wreck.  
  
"Mr. Moody," Henry warned, quietly.  
  
"I think, perhaps, it might be attributed to the food on board ship, sir. I've heard that protein does much for growth." Hornblower, taking a deep breath, let it hold in for a moment, then slowly let himself exhale.  
  
"Is that right, Mr. Lowe? Quite an interesting fact, if I might say so. I've not often thought of you as one to study nutritional values," Murdoch mused, smirking amidst his grins.  
  
Lightoller finally broke into the conversation, commenting offhand, "Mr. Lowe, you are aware that regulations state that all officers of the White Star Line are to wear their hair short back and sides?" He could only really go on what Wilde had written, but given the questioning, it had some merit.  
  
Letting his head bob once, Horatio tried his best to give a helpless smile. "I am, sir."  
  
Moody jumped in, "And it'll be taken care of, sir, it was completely--"  
  
"Mr. Moody, if you please," Murdoch sighed, looking at the young officer with a furrowed brow.  
  
Wilde eyed Horatio with a slight smile. "Well, it's of no great consequence, really. So you're feeling better? That's good, for I wouldn't want your fiancee to worry."  
  
Moody's eyes widened a fraction and he protested with as much innocence as he could muster. "But sir, Mr. Lowe doesn't have a fiancee."  
  
"Mr. Moody!" Henry nearly growled, giving the young officer a look that didn't allow for arguments.  
  
"Sorry, sir," Jimmy mumbled.  
  
Hornblower did his best not to shift uncomfortably from one foot to another. "No, sir, I do not have a fiancee. Perhaps I was delirious at the moment that I might have told you this. Things have been coming and going in my mind, and I believe The Coffee may be at fault, sir."  
  
Wilde looked to Will. He was at a loss now, yet again, and thought it wise to turn over the less-than-subtle interrogation to someone who might be able to come up with another idea.  
  
"Take your hat off, Mr. Lowe," Murdoch commanded, not nearly as lightly as he would have liked to.  
  
"Sir?" Horatio wasn't used to questioning the orders given to him, but he worried about the situation as a whole and turned that questioning gaze at Will.  
  
"I requested that you might take off your hat. Perhaps your hearing should be checked as well," Will inched on, though not too terribly forceful in his ways.  
  
Quickly pulling his hat from his head, Hornblower rested it under his arm in the customary way he was taught as a midshipman. "Very good, sir."  
  
Walking around the younger lad, the First Officer shook his head and reached a hand up, plucking the pigtail from inside the white collar that laid under Horatio's jacket. "And what of this? I do believe your hair was lacking such an... extension, yesterday."  
  
Lightoller's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead as he leaned to the side to get a good look. When he straightened back up, he glanced at Wilde in questioning, and was rewarded with a silent, "I told you so." Then he simply nodded, eyeing Hornblower again with an odd look.  
  
Henry continued after he was finished silently communicating with Charles, "Not to mention, before you went on your rounds this morning."  
  
"I couldn't quite tell you what happened, sir," Horatio lied, doing his best to make his innocence natural.  
  
"I'm telling you, sir, it had to have been The Coffee. Who knows what it could have--" Moody tried yet again.  
  
This time, all three of the senior officers turned on him and yelled in unison, "MR. MOODY!"  
  
Henry took it a step farther by walking over and gently but very firmly leading the Sixth Officer out onto the promenade. Once he was out of earshot of the Bridge, he commanded, "Mr. Moody, you're to stay on the First Class Promenade until further orders. Am I clear?"  
  
James swallowed hard. "But sir--" He stopped himself when he saw the look on the Chief's face, and nodded stiffly. "Aye, sir." Had he not been so damn concerned, he might have told Wilde that he was, in fact, quite opaque and solid... but then, he had a feeling the Chief wasn't exactly in a joking mood.  
  
Glancing off to the side in wonderment of what had happened, Hornblower frowned slightly, then looked forwards once again.  
  
"I don't suppose you want the passengers to see you that way, do you, Mr. Lowe?" Murdoch grinned slightly, his Scottish playfulness getting the best of him.  
  
"No, sir, of course not!" Raising his chin out of pride, Horatio nodded to himself, adamantly.  
  
Wilde walked back onto the Bridge, smiling pleasantly now that the Sixth Officer was out of the way for the time being. He had no way of knowing that Moody was crossing to the Port side to listen in from the other side of the Bridge.  
  
Lightoller couldn't help but fall into that same near-joking nature -- yes, Murdoch had that quality that could make anyone near him instantly brighten up. "Though, Mr. Lowe, you could honestly sell that hair for quite a good price."  
  
"Indeed," Murdoch laughed, looking over at the Second Officer. "I'm sure there are many wig companies that would pay a few pounds for such locks!"  
  
Doing his best to keep his cheeks from flushing, Horatio shifted his weight carefully, restricting his movements in hopes to keep their attention diverted from him for the most part.  
  
"Our Captain on the _Oceanic_ would have never allowed for this, would he?" Lights glanced at Lowe, as if to confirm that. He might have gotten an answer if a cough wouldn't have come from the Port side Officer's Promenade.  
  
*cough*neveron_Oceanic_*cough*cough*  
  
By now, Henry just rolled his eyes, looking at Murdoch, who returned the exasperated look and gave a quick nod in the direction of the sound.  
  
"No, sir," Hornblower replied, amiably, "I don't believe he would, though I cannot speak from experience."  
  
Lightoller frowned, walking out to the Port side to find no one in sight. Wilde took the Starboard a moment later, finding a faintly flushed James Moody whistling on the First Class Promenade.  
  
Murdoch, as confused as he looked, glanced after the other two officers with both eyebrows raised. Then, moving his gaze back to Hornblower, he grinned slightly while the other two returned to his side. "Has it been long since you spoke with your family last?"  
  
"Quite, sir," Horatio frowned, once again not needing to lie.  
  
It was in that particular moment that Captain Smith decided to come onto the Bridge. He was dressed in his black uniform, handsome in the way dignified older gentlemen were. With a smile, he nodded to his officers. "Gentlemen."  
  
Wilde, Murdoch and Lightoller all stood to attention, touching their hats and answering, "Sir," in less than perfect unison.  
  
Already at attention, Hornblower wasted no time in carrying out his own respects, though only able to give a slight bow since his hat had been removed. "Sir," he replied, wistfully, still stiff in the presence of a Captain.  
  
Smith smiled at them all again, then looked to Henry. "Ready for parade, Mr. Wilde?"  
  
"Aye, sir," Wilde answered, formally, as he nodded to the other three. Inspection parade was a slightly tedious affair, but by this point, Henry was welcoming the idea of setting his mind back to organization -- his natural talent for bearing in mind near everything that dictated smooth running on such a large liner. He gave Will a meaningful look, a promise to speak again later, and with that, the two men walked out.  
  
Letting out what little sigh of relief he allowed himself, Horatio immediately felt more at ease with the Chief gone.  
  
"You should probably take your rounds, Mr. Lowe," Lightoller commented, wanting a chance to speak with Will alone. "And do something about that hair while you're at it."  
  
Aye aye, sir," Hornblower nodded, replacing his hat and knuckling it before stepping off the Bridge in quite a hurry.  
  
Charles watched him go before turning to Will. "This seems to be getting rather surreal, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"I would, yes." Murdoch frowned, looking after the young officer as he left. "Mr. Lowe seems... quite different."  
  
"Not like the man we knew yesterday, perhaps?" Lightoller quirked an eyebrow. "Or for that matter, during the entire sea trial?"  
  
Shaking his head with a slight laugh, Will replied, "Not in the least."


	8. Part VII Scissors of Doom

**Part VII - Harold Lowe and the Scissors of Doom**  
  
- -------- -  
  
It was a flood to the senses to say the least, as Harold Lowe opened his eyes to find himself on the main deck of a square-rigged frigate. The planking rolled beneath his feet in a motion he had known when he was younger, and certainly hadn't forgotten -- he had no trouble balancing smoothly, for it was something a man never lost. The smell of salt water flying up in spray, lightly flecking across his face, as the sails boomed and flapped from the wind above was somewhere between enchanting and promising. Had he not been more worried about how and where, he might have taken a long moment to appreciate those things, as both a sailor, and as a man who had left that phase of his life.  
  
But, instead of letting the feelings drag him off, he turned his attention to the immediate area, a nervous feeling crawling into the pit of his stomach.  
  
Down the deck, not too terribly far away, Archie Kennedy leaned against the railing of the quarterdeck, his head dipped low to his chest. With his hat leaning precariously over his eyes, one might have figured him to be dead, but his light breathing told of other things. Merely sleeping, the young lieutenant was unaware that he had been brought back home and was to be the officer of the watch, despite the fact that he hadn't spent the last day or so on board ship... as far as he knew, anyway.  
  
As the spray washed over the side of the ship, and the _Renown_ moved with the swell of the waves, so did Kennedy, quite adept to keeping his footing even when he wasn't awake. Movement was a constant on board the frigate, and he did nothing more than sleep in the sunlight, his eyes covered from the harsh rays by the shade of his cocked hat.  
  
For a long moment, Harold searched for a familiar face, though he didn't see anyone nearby he even remotely recognized. Looking down, he noted he was still in his White Star uniform, and that there was someone of higher rank heading in his direction. In a moment of well-thought panic, he leapt into the shadows of the raised quarterdeck, holding his breath.  
  
Pronouncing himself in a commanding air by the way he strolled onto deck, Captain Sawyer looked around at his crew. Happy to see them working to their potential, he then looked to the quarterdeck for his officers. Noting the leaning officer of the watch, he frowned and narrowed his eyes in a glare, then making his way over to Archie, he slowly slid his sword from the scabbard at his hip and rested it under the young officer's chin, allowing the side of the blade to lift the other man's head.  
  
Awakened slowly by the feel of cold steel on his chin, Kennedy groggily opened his eyes and lifted his head allowing the Captain to move the sword back against Archie's throat.  
  
"Ah, asleep on deck, just as I figured, Mr. Kennedy." Sawyer smirked, watching the blade scrape against the Fourth Lieutenant's neck as he swallowed.  
  
"No, s-sir..." Clearing his throat, Archie composed himself as well as he could, rising to full height at attention. "Merely resting my eyes, sir."  
  
Shaking his head, Sawyer followed his moves. "Were you, really? And yet you did not hear me pull my sword?"  
  
Lowe's eyes widened at the sight, and before he was even thinking about his actions, he was across the deck and standing beside Sawyer. It was not his wisest move, but he would rather have the Captain's wrath on him than Archie. "Captain, sir!"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Hornblower?" Sawyer seethed, not letting his eyes move from the younger officer.  
  
"Sir, it was my fault, sir," Lowe said, quickly using his sharp mind to come up with a (hopefully) plausible story. "I was making certain that my musket was loaded, and I lost my grip on the powder, thereby... thereby getting a small amount in Mr. Kennedy's eyes, sir."  
  
"You weapon should have been loaded since you put on your uniform," the Captain replied, moving the blade away from Archie's neck and causing the young man to give a bit of a sigh for the relief of the situation. "Do see that you are careful, Mr. Hornblower, or I will have both of your heads for neglecting your duties. However, until then, I think perhaps you might do well to explain your attire."  
  
"Unfortunately, the powder did more damage to my uniform than it thankfully did to Mr. Kennedy, sir." Harold stood at attention -- he was in the Royal Navy Reserve and knew well the formalities it entailed. "I have yet to clean it sir, and my others are in need of mending. As I would rather take to my duties, sir, I thought it best to wear the next best thing so that I might continue to work."  
  
Sawyer looked over the smartly dressed Fifth Officer, believing him to be one of his own. "And your hair?" Leaning over to look at the short hair, he growled slightly.  
  
Lowe swallowed hard, still at attention with his eyes forward. "I was jumped, sir."  
  
"Jumped, Mr. Hornblower?!" The Captain glared at the young officer, incredulously, sword still at his side.  
  
"By a barber, sir," Harold said, jumping on the first idiotic thought that crossed his near-locked mind. _"I'm a dead man,"_ he found himself thinking, more than once and very rapidly.  
  
"Yes, sir," Archie jumped in, nervously frowning. A barber?! Nevermind, try to salvage the story. "Attacked from behind."  
  
"You as well, Mr. Kennedy?" Sawyer turned from one lieutenant to another, shaking his head.  
  
Kennedy, biting at his lip, nodded and clenched his fists, catching the Captain's attention who noted the cut up knuckles. "And where was this attack, gentlemen?"  
  
Lowe nodded in the direction of the main deck below, thankful suddenly that he and Archie had scrapped the hardest on their sparring what seemed like an eternity ago -- he still had red knuckles himself, and a nice bruise that wasn't too dark but noticeable alongside his nose and under his left eye. "There, sir. We were speaking of the weather, and he got the jump on us, sir."  
  
"_Who_, Mr. Hornblower?"  
  
"We're not sure, sir. All we can be sure of was that he was a barber, and quite a skilled one."  
  
"Yes, sir," Archie continued. "He was able to struggle Mr. Hornblower to the deck after catching us both by surprise, and before I was able to pin him down, he snipped the tail from your Third Lieutenant's head."  
  
Sawyer smirked slightly. "Where did this man run off to, then?"  
  
"Sadly, sir, he seems to have run off with my hair. It was so quick and furious that we didn't have much time to assess who he was, sir," Harold tried to explain, feeling very much like a man digging his own grave.  
  
"Do be more careful then," the Captain frowned, less out of concern than of finding the man and commending him.  
  
"Absolutely, sir!" Lowe offered, still standing as rigid as a board.  
  
Waking aft, the Captain disappeared from view, allowing Archie to finally breath again, though not moving to comment.  
  
"Bloody Christ, that was too close," Lowe muttered, his stance relaxing as he leaned on the railing. He fought down a snicker and said, very quietly, "None too bright, is he?"  
  
Kennedy, quickly looking around, inched closer to Harold, shaking his head. "Hold your tongue, man," he ordered, though mildheartedly. "Cap'n Sawyer has eyes and ears everywhere."  
  
Harold shot him a look of slight annoyance, but then just shook his head. "Well, somehow we've managed to get mixed up, haven't we?"  
  
"Quite right. I think it would be safer if we got you below before anyone else wondered about your uniform. Perhaps Mr. Bush will relieve me early so I can take you down." Rubbing his eyes for a moment, he tried to get his tension to leave him, and finally he sighed. "Thanks for helping me back there... You didn't have to."  
  
"If I hadn't, we'd both be in hotter water than we already are."   
  
"Right you are." Standing and straightening his uniform, Archie nodded to his friend. Turning, he barked out his words, "Mr. Wellard!"  
  
A young midshipman came bounding from below, full of energy, and quickly snapped to attention in front of Archie. "Sir?"  
  
"Go below and give Mr. Bush my compliments and ask him if he would be kind enough to join me here on deck."  
  
"Aye aye, sir," Wellard managed, his brown hair tossing behind him as he turned to go below.   
  
"Who?" Lowe asked, watching the midshipman leave.  
  
"Midshipman Wellard," Kennedy offered, aside to Lowe. "Here, I'll point out who I can, if you'll have me, sir."  
  
"By all means, Mr. Kennedy," Harold said, as formally as he could.  
  
"Well, you've met Cap'n Sawyer and Mr. Wellard," Archie continued, quietly. "The bosun's Mr. Matthews, a friend of Horatio's from his time on the _Justinian_. The bosun's mate is Styles, who you'll instantly be able to pick out from Matthews. The largest example of the Captain's eyes and ears that I was speaking of is Mr. Hobbs." Pointing down the deck, discreetly, he made sure Lowe noted the large, blond man that stood overlooking the work. "He's a gunner and has to answer sir to even Mr. Wellard, but he has a strong pull with the Cap'n."  
  
"Does he now?" A mischievous light entered into Lowe's eyes as he called down to the deck, squaring his shoulders and putting on a sea-voice Horatio might have envied. "Mr. Hobbs!"  
  
Hobbs, thrown off-guard by the order, looked up at the man he believed to be the Third Lieutenant and squinted in the sunlight. "Sir?"  
  
"That deck looks to be in need of cleaning! Get to it man, and make it snappy!"  
  
Blinking, the gunner looked around him once, then looked back up. "But, sir..."  
  
"'But, sir?'" Lowe's eyebrows raised at the challenge. "But sir what, Mr. Hobbs?"  
  
Defeated, Hobbs nodded and turned to go about his new duties.  
  
Whistling in admiration, Archie couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, I must admit that's something I never thought I would see."  
  
"You say he's in with the Captain?" Lowe asked, quietly.  
  
"I'm not sure those words would even be appropriate. They're as close as father and son, I'd say."  
  
"That could come in handy," Harry murmured softly, nearly to himself, "if used properly."  
  
Grinning at the words, Archie looked below once more, before frowning slightly. "Now, where did Mr. Wellard get himself off to? I suppose he should be back soon. It might be better if you waited below so we don't raise his suspicions as well."  
  
"Probably, yes." Harold made his way down along the side of the quarterdeck and beneath it, hoping not to get himself too terribly lost in the process.  
  
Waiting up on deck, Kennedy smiled in the sunlight, glad in some ways to be back on his own ship, but missing both Horatio and James. Placing his hands behind his back in the usual manner, he paced the deck quietly, waiting for Bush or Wellard.  
  
The Second Lieutenant, William Bush, arrived not more than two minutes later with Wellard at his heels. He gave a quick glance around, then set his gaze on Archie. "Mr. Kennedy."  
  
Somewhat startled by his superior's presence, Kennedy turned and touched his hat in reply. "Good to see you, sir."  
  
"You requested my presence?" Bush asked, leaning momentarily on the quarterdeck's railing. He blinked once or twice at the sight of Hobbs scrubbing the deck, and frowned.  
  
"Sir, I did," Archie replied, putting his hands behind his back once again. "I was wondering if it might be possible to go below a little early and attend to some studies."  
  
The older man nodded, still a little bemused at the spectacle below. Finally curiosity prompted him to ask, "Why is Mr. Hobbs swabbing the decks?"  
  
Kennedy, barely able to keep himself from grinning, promptly replied, "He's following his orders, sir."  
  
Bush turned and looked back at Kennedy, only a ghost of his own smile making it through his facade. "The Captain's, or someone else's?"  
  
"Mr. Hornblower's sir."  
  
Bush nodded, still hiding a smirk, but his eyes twinkled at the thought anyway and he made no move to disrupt the gunner in his labors. "Very good. You're relieved, Mr. Kennedy, and may your studies be fruitful."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Archie smiled, touching his hat. "And may your watch be uneventful." Turning, he made his way below in search of Harold.  
  
Harry was wisely staying out of sight, tucked back in shadow that worked with his black uniform. When Archie walked past, he reached out and touched his arm, hoping not to startle him too much.  
  
Turning, Kennedy would have probably punched the person grabbing his arm if he hadn't recognized Lowe so quickly. Life on board a ship was nothing to take lightly, and after bullying officers in Archie's past, he wasn't going to allow himself to be pulled into such problems again. "Thank God you weren't seen here..."  
  
"The uniform, or just my charming presence?" Harold asked, joking slightly.  
  
"Both would have given anyone a clue," Kennedy laughed, motioning for Lowe to walk with him as he made his way towards the officer's quarters.  
  
Lowe fell in behind him, not saying another word for the time being as he tried to memorize where he was and what halls he was turning.  
  
Easily finding his way through the bowels of the ship, the young Fourth Lieutenant did what he could to avoid the other crew members, and stepping into Horatio's room, he immediately began to dig through his friend's clothes.  
  
Harold looked around, appreciating how much larger his cabin was on the _Titanic_, and that didn't say much at all. Frowning, he leaned against the wall, watching Archie for a moment before commenting, "Rather cramped."  
  
Glancing around as he dug, Kennedy nodded. "You'd appreciate them a lot more if you were stuck in the Midshipman's berth. I don't understand how I put up with it." Tossing a uniform coat on the bed, he continued his work, making a quick mess of the room.   
  
Lowe chuckled softly, with no small amount of irony. "Well, it had to have been better than where I slept when I first shipped out."  
  
"Where was that?" Archie asked, curiously, then tossed a pair of pants onto the bed, followed by an undershirt, then an overshirt.  
  
"Where they hauled the bodies of whichever idiot fell from the yard that week," Lowe commented quietly. "Along with a few others... rather cramped as well, and it reeked to boot if we were off shore too long."  
  
Wincing, the younger man picked up the clothes and offered them. "No burial at sea, then?"  
  
"Not at peacetime," Harold muttered, taking the proffered garments. "Usually had some old seahag come an' get them whenever we got to a port of call."  
  
"Sounds rough, Harry," Kennedy shook his head in sympathy. "And it'll be rough for us if we get caught, so why don't you go ahead and get into that. I'll be across the hall if you need me." Offering the black cravat, the younger man couldn't help but smile reassuringly.  
  
"Nothing that I couldn't take," Lowe said, offhand, as he took to figuring the complex uniform out. "Don't be shocked if you hear me yelling that I've gotten myself tangled in this mess."  
  
Laughing lightly, Kennedy grinned, "Well, I'll be sure to come running if you do yell. Feel free to drop by when you're finished." Reaching back, he opened the door and slipped out quietly.  
  
  
  
In all, it took Harold near a half hour to get into that uniform and make it presentable. He immediately didn't like the weight of it, and wondered how they could work in something so unbearably repressive, but by the time he had it figured out, he realized that it was a handsome setup, no matter how cumbersome. Searching the room, he could find no trace of a mirror, but figured that any gross anomalies would be caught by Archie before anyone else.   
  
Looking both ways, he stepped out and slipped across the somewhat narrow hall, knocking very softly on the opposite door.  
  
"Come in," came the distracted reply, from behind the door.  
  
Lowe stepped in, closing the door behind him. "Does this pass inspection?"  
  
Slowly glancing up from the book he was buried in, he looked Lowe over and grinned. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were Horatio."  
  
Harry grinned back. "Well, that's the aim, isn't it?"  
  
"You're right, it is." Standing, Archie set his book aside and carefully fixed the cravat around Harold's neck before stepping back once again. "So, how do you feel?"  
  
"Like I've been wrapped up in a thick straight-jacket," Harold answered, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to make the uniform a little more comfortable.  
  
Snickering, the young lieutenant motioned for his companion to sit in his own chair while he sat back on his hammock. "Exactly how you should feel."  
  
"Is this thing designed to make an officer miserable?" Lowe asked, sitting down obediently. "It wouldn't surprise me."   
  
"I think it was designed so poor souls like us will be too uncomfortable to sleep while on duty. Still, you got lucky with the Captain forgetting about watch and watch."  
  
"Oh, I have a feeling he won't forget for long." Harold tossed a black look at the ceiling before sighing and settling into the chair a little more comfortably. "Tell me about Hobbs, would you?"  
  
Relaxing back himself and laying in his hammock, Archie shrugged. "What would you like to know about him?"  
  
"Anything that would give me an idea how to either win him over or scare him so badly that he will listen."  
  
"I think perhaps it would take a lot to do both. Hobbs isn't the type of person who lets things pass him by, so whatever you choose to do, be careful." Yawning slightly, Kennedy moved his book from the table onto a small shelf he had managed to find room for. "He's a slick one, but I think for certain you could outsmart him."  
  
"We, Archie," Lowe said, distantly. The gears were turning in his mind.  
  
"I would almost say that you sounded too much like Horatio for that moment, Harold."  
  
Harry chuckled, looking back at his friend. "Did I? Remind me not to do that again."  
  
Snickering, the lieutenant nodded. "Will do. Anything else you need to know for now, though?"  
  
"Any personal information I might need." Lowe shrugged. "Aside from that, nothing immediate."  
  
Searching through his mind, he began picking out the details of Horatio's life that would prove important, and resolving what he would tell, and what he wouldn't, he sat forward. "Well, your father was a doctor, but you decided that you rather go to sea, so you began as a midshipman on the _Justinian_ under Captain Keene. We met there, and after a little while I disappeared," he muttered the last few words, distastefully. "You were transferred to the _Indefatigable_ and after some brilliant acts you were promoted to a lieutenant while in a Spanish prison. From there, you ended up here on the _Renown_."  
  
"Disappeared?"  
  
Coughing slightly, Kennedy nodded, looking down at the floor absently. "I was left in a boat during a battle and ended up in French hands, then Spanish."  
  
Lowe frowned, but didn't press the issue. There was something about Archie's look that Harold could most certainly relate to, and he knew without proof that there was more to the story than that. Nonetheless, Lowe knew better than to pry... he wouldn't appreciate it himself, and he doubted Archie would.  
  
"It was actually an idiotic thing," the younger man continued in an unusual act of openness. "We were in the middle of a sneaking attack and I started going into a fit. Horatio must have knocked me over the head, but next I remembered, I was waking up with a bunch of Frogs around me."  
  
The term Frogs didn't immediately click, but Harold pieced it together anyway. "A fit? That doesn't strike me as something that you'd suffer."  
  
"An 'affliction' as Captain Pellew would call it," Archie explained.  
  
"Affliction," Lowe echoed. "Like a persistent cold?"  
  
"Not quite," the twenty-three year old frowned slightly. "Epilepsy, in medical terms, seizures in normals terms, and fits in seamen terms."  
  
"And in basic human terms, damn bad luck."  
  
"You could say that, yes. In any case, that's why I disappeared, but that doesn't do much for your story. Horatio was in a Spanish prison in El Ferrol where I had ended up, and after quite a time there on his own, we were all allowed to return to the ship."  
  
Lowe nodded, making mental notes of everything said for later use. "Then it was here, was it?"  
  
Nodding, Archie picked his quill off of his table and glanced up at Harry. "In so few words, yes."  
  
"The fewer the better," Lowe chuckled, though more because he didn't know his role nearly so well as he would have liked. The thought of his own Welsh accent never crossed his mind.  
  
"The First Lieutenant is Buckland... he's all right, really, but he's weak in the knees when it comes to standing up to the Captain. Second's Bush, who you'll meet when I take you up for watch. He's kind of his own man, but I think I like him better than Buckland."  
  
"Is there anyone under us?"  
  
Nodding, Archie picked at the quill. "Of course, but the only one you really have to worry about is Mr. Wellard. He'll do just about anything for you... Well, Horatio-- You, I mean."  
  
"Horatio," Harry said, as way of putting an end to it, "who, as far as anyone other than yourself's concerned, I am."  
  
"You're right," Kennedy grinned, setting the pen back down. "Shall we get up on deck? It would be an hour early, but if you're not enjoying this little box of mine I'm sure we could find something to do on the deck."  
  
"Sounds like an idea," Harry agreed, standing in the confining space and confining uniform.  
  
Standing as well, Kennedy pulled at the bottom of his uniform, then carefully retied his hair. Placing his hat on his head precisely, he nodded to his newfound superior and flashed him a grin. "After you, sir."  
  
Lowe gave him a curt nod, replying very clipped and English, "Very good, Mr. Kennedy." Then he stepped out.  
  
Snickering, the Third Lieutenant had a feeling that he might actually enjoy the switch between Lowe and Hornblower, as long as his best friend wasn't trapped somewhere else for ever.  
  
  
  
The maindeck of the _Renown_ was actually looking quite spiffy by the time Archie and Harold made their way back to the quarterdeck. Bush was pacing the lee rail, looking out over the water in his own watch for enemy ships, and he gave the younger men a nod as they walked to the railing before he went back to his observance.  
  
It wasn't exactly quiet, as it was rarely quiet on the decks of a frigate, with it's constant motion and sound, but it wasn't unpleasant. Men talked quietly below as they went about their duties, and the sails rustled nearly in harmony with each other. Sunlight fell in patches where it could find an opening, making a normally dismal ship seem that much more alive.  
  
Lowe briefly took in the scenes, the smells, the taste of salt and light before he made his way below to the maindeck. It didn't take him too long to come up with the next phase of the plan he was slowly formulating in his mind -- he had no way of knowing when or even if he was ever going to get back to the _Titanic_, but until then, he wasn't going to let his guard down.  
  
Sure enough, Hobbs was still cleaning, though the look on his face could leech the warmth from even the brightest room. He stopped his quiet grumbling when he heard Harold's approach, but his face didn't soften in the least as he stood with his mop and said, stiffly, "Sir."  
  
Harold nodded, looking down at the deck with a slight smile. "Mr. Hobbs. Doing quite a fine job on these decks."  
  
The larger man didn't know whether to be confused or angry, so he opted for, "Sir?"  
  
"A damn fine job," Lowe said, looking back at Hobbs with a half-smile and an almost admiring look. Noting the ambivalent expression the other man had, he turned the charm up a notch or two more. "Why don't you take the rest of your shift off? Go below, get something to eat and drink, relax for some time..."  
  
Hobbs raised an eyebrow, but the prospect of time off definitely piqued his interests. He didn't know what the officer was planning, though, so he took a more careful approach. The last thing he wanted was Hornblower turning around and telling the Captain that he had left without permission. "I should finish out my shift, sir."  
  
"If you like," Lowe commented, pleasantly. "Set someone else to keep on those decks, though." And with that, the Welshman headed back upstairs to stand with Kennedy at the railing. He didn't notice the baffled look that the gunner had given him, nor did he notice the near spring in his step as he shouted for one of his underlings to finish the job. Praise and authority went a long way with a man, though, and the seeds had just been planted.  
  
Within the next ten minutes, Archie and Harry watched as a poor young seaman was set to swabbing the decks, and as Hobbs stood over him directing his movements. Lowe couldn't help but sneak a grin when the gunner showed him how to properly polish a deck, and then stood back and watched... Hobbs was enjoying his authority now, and making full use of it. After twenty minutes, he shot a look at the quarterdeck, half-challenging, half looking for approval, and Lowe gave him a nod. "One step at a time, I suppose," he said, lightly, aside to Archie.  
  
"Wish I knew what was going through your mind," the younger man chuckled, his voice low. "It's usually easy to tell what Horatio's thinking, but you've got a whole different perspective, despite the resemblance." Leaning himself on the railing as well, Kennedy let his usual grin set itself in on his face, and shook his head. "She certainly is a beautiful ship when she wants to be."  
  
"Yes, she is," Harold said, smiling to himself and perhaps the world in general. His dark eyes scanned the sails and masts, taking everything in -- every yard, every rigging, every line. "I think I did well when I sailed rather than cruised, but steam will be the ultimate end, so I suppose it's better to get adapted to it now." A sad expression crossed his face as he continued, "I'd say this was almost making me homesick, but that doesn't make much sense."  
  
"Makes perfect sense, actually. I remember being homesick when I first started working on the ships, but now it's different. Always is, you know? If I'm ever homesick now, it's for the water, and the wood, and the sun." Taking his hat off with greater care than he normally would, Archie looked at it, then glanced over at Lowe. "Never thought I'd make it for a week on the water, and now here I am as a lieutenant in the middle of a war. That'll all change too, though, when this bloody fight's over. We'll all be back to sailing for the sake of food instead of sailing for the sake of England."  
  
"Or, God forbid, not sailing at all." Lowe shook his head, a hint of bitterness flavoring his words, "I made it to Second Mate on a schooner before I went to steam, and I think what bothers me most is that you don't ride the waves so much as cut them. It feels different... Hell, it even tastes different."  
  
Nodding, Kennedy looked back down to the deck to check the progress of Hobbs and his new protege, then traced his eyes across the horizon. "Maybe the advancement of mankind wasn't meant for the old seadogs like us," the Fourth Lieutenant teased, smiling.  
  
"Ah, but we're supposed to adapt to the times! Go with the tides of change and not fight them!" Harry's voice had a false edge of glee on it until he dropped back to normal tones, "Or we'll just end up following the tides right into an iceberg."  
  
"Well, they'll know about it now. I don't think you have anything to worry about," Kennedy offered, trying to keep the mood light.  
  
"I hope so," Lowe said, reflectively. "I really do hope so."


	9. Part VIII Or Maybe it was Horatio

**Part VIII - ...Or Maybe it was Horatio and the Scissors**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
Two in the afternoon on the _RMS Titanic_ found Chief Officer Wilde relieving First Officer Murdoch, and it also found James Moody working in the chartroom. He had been on watch for two hours, and the entire time had been spent fretting over Horatio's whereabouts until common sense and a need for distraction sent him back to the Wireless Room to retrieve any and all ice warnings to post for the Bridge crew. There weren't many, but even as he tacked off the coordinates on the map overhanging the navigation table, he could start piecing together the ice field.  
  
As he worked, his mind calculated speed and distance, trying to find an approximate time to be concerned. From what little knowledge he had gotten in his future jaunt, she went down after three on the 15th. It had said that there were about two hours between the impact and the actual foundering of the _Titanic_, so he could only guess that she hit the berg anywhere between twelve-thirty and one-thirty in the morning.  
  
What bothered Moody most, though, was that he just wasn't sure. In the back of his mind, he pondered everything between the accuracy of the papers to the map overhead, trying his hardest to come up with as close a time as possible. He had already made up his mind that if all else failed, he would sacrifice his career and forcibly commandeer the ship at that time.  
  
Needless to say, James didn't want to resort to that.  
  
So, with a lingering frown, he went back to work and turned options over and over in his mind.  
  
  
  
Not too long after Wilde had gotten onto watch did Hornblower find his way back up onto the boatdeck. Glancing up and down the decks that did their best to make his feet ache, he then moved onto the Bridge in search of James, offering a polite nod to the officers that were there.  
  
Henry nodded back, giving him a cursory glance over for the sake of his own curiosity, and Will gave him a smile that was practically all sunlight, commenting before the other man could escape, "Mr. Lowe. Have you made it to the barber yet, or haven't you had a chance?"  
  
"I haven't gotten the chance yet, sirs." Horatio nodded, cursing himself for even forgetting that he was supposed to cut his hair. He had gotten caught up in the beauty of the ship, and now he was being questioned.  
  
"Well, when you get an opportunity," Murdoch said, lightly. He was in a good mood, and they had just gotten done with their final stop in Queenstown. The prospect of being on the open sea appealed to any sailor, even one who had taken this run for as long as Will had.  
  
"Aye aye, sir. Thank you." Leaving himself a mental sigh of relief, Horatio moved to find Moody, honestly uncomfortable under the eyes of his two superiors.  
  
Wilde inched his way over to Murdoch, standing next to the shorter man as he watched Hornblower disappear through the wheelhouse and into the chartroom. Once the young officer was gone, he said, "There's still something peculiar about him, Will. I can't piece it all together, though."  
  
Nodding, Will crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "I was thinking the same thing. Maybe we should ask around and see if anyone knows what might have happened to him."  
  
"May be an idea, old man."  
  
  
  
James looked up from his navigating when Horatio walked in, offering him a slightly solemn smile. "Get lost yet?"  
  
"Not quite yet," Hornblower confirmed, grinning and looking over the chart Moody had been working on. "I think perhaps I'll get lost as soon as I venture too far away from the Bridge."  
  
"I know I still get confused on this monster." James shook his head, grinning himself as he leaned back in his chair. "There are places on this ship I know I've never been to."  
  
"Never fail to be surprised then, eh?" Picking up one of the ice warnings, Horatio looked it over with a frown. "Where'd you get this?"  
  
"The Wireless Room," Moody answered, nodding his head aftwards.  
  
"Wireless Room? Perhaps it seems like an odd question, but aren't all rooms wireless?"  
  
Jimmy's face lit up in a grin. Of course Hornblower wouldn't know what a wireless radio was... but this gave him the perfect opportunity to show him. He stood and straightened his uniform jacket. "C'mon, I'll show you what I mean."  
  
Shrugging, the Third Lieutenant nodded and allowed Moody to lead the way. James slipped out of the chartroom, heading back the hallway around the Officer's Quarters before sticking his head into a smallish room at the back. "Gents."  
  
Jack Phillips, a young and handsome fellow, looked up and slipped one headphone off to regard Moody. "No new ice warnings. But if you wanted to know what room the Countess of Rothes is booked for, I could tell you that."  
  
"That's quite all right," James snickered, stepping into the room.  
  
Looking after Moody, Horatio decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut, and he leaned on the counter, grinning slightly. He wasn't sure what the room was for, but it almost seemed like it belonged in some Admiral's home with it's shiny parts.  
  
"Aren't you on duty, Jim?" Harold Bride asked, pushing the curtain between the bunk and the table aside. He set his book down.  
  
Moody picked up a message, idly reading it. "I was sent back here to bother you."  
  
"Suuuuure, sir." Jack shook his head, putting the headphones back on right before turning to the key. Within a few seconds, he was back to work. Birthday or no, he was a dedicated lad.  
  
"What's it say?" Horatio couldn't help but let the curiosity get to him. It had to have been something terribly important to be in a room like he was in. Perhaps they were some orders that were to be sent out immediately.  
  
Moody listened for a moment or two, then leaned over to Horatio and whispered, "To Millie. Arriving on Wednesday. Order cigars and buy brandy." He barely held a straight face as he finished, "Love, snookums."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Hornblower looked over at Moody, then to Jack who was hard at work. "Is it in code?"  
  
"Morse," Moody replied.  
  
"Well, what's that, then?"  
  
"Er... well, a code where dots and dashes represent letters of the alphabet."  
  
Shaking his head, Horatio realized that things were just going to get more and more confusing for him. "And you know it as well?"  
  
Wincing slightly, Moody dropped his voice even further, "All of the officers know it."  
  
"Oh," was all the lieutenant was able to offer as a reply.  
  
Both of the Wireless boys had gone back to their own ambitions... they were fairly used to keeping company only with each other, and were very good at tuning out anything that interfered with their work or reading. James watched a moment or two longer before leaving, pausing outside the door to wait for Horatio to follow.  
  
Letting his eyes glance over the grandeur of the Wireless Room one last time, he then moved back to walk behind Moody. "This ship... It's amazing," Horatio said, his voice quite soft. Everything seemed so elaborate, even the most simple of things.  
  
"Big, that's what." Moody chuckled, "I suppose you get used to them after a while, though."  
  
"It would certainly take a lot." Letting his hands rest behind his back, Hornblower nodded. "What do you have left to do?"  
  
"One more walk on the rounds," James answered, taking his watch out and looking at it, "and then final reports. You've got the first dogwatch today, and I've got the second."  
  
"All right. Want me to walk with you?"  
  
"If you like." Moody nodded and stepped onto the Bridge, touching his hat to Wilde before heading to starboard rounds.  
  
Grinning somewhat sheepishly, Horatio did the same, then followed Moody off the Bridge. "Mr. Murdoch said that I should cut my hair when I get the chance... Think I can get away with never having a chance?"  
  
"I don't know," James replied, dubiously. "You could try, but I doubt they would allow their patience to be tested all the way to New York."  
  
"I guess I should probably do what they say, then. Where is the barber, anyway?"  
  
"B-Deck, I believe... but don't quote me on that."  
  
Nodding once again, Horatio glanced around. "Think I should go now or wait?"  
  
"I would get it over with, but it's really your decision," Moody said with a shrug.  
  
"I think you're right. Besides, if I get lost, I'll have more time to find my way back." Patting Moody on the shoulder, Horatio turned to go and find someone who could direct him below to the correct spot.  
  
  
  
It didn't take long for the out-of-time sailor to get lost in the great bowels of the ship. Every turn led to a corridor that had at least two different choices from there, and as far as Hornblower could tell, everything looked the same. The whole ship was designed beautifully, and was certainly something he knew that he would never see again in his lifetime.  
  
Horatio admired the make of the ship, but he also felt homesick for the feel of wood under his feet. He honestly loved working on the masted ships, and feeling the roll of the whole waves as the vessel would travel through the water, even though it still was enough to make him seasick if he was caught off guard. Of course, he couldn't feel anything on _Titanic _other than the rumbling of the engines below, and even that was faint to him, and unfamiliar.  
  
Turning around another corner, he nodded and smiled to a few nicely dressed passengers that passed him, though none of them seemed to acknowledge him in return. Again, he was in another hallway that looked just the same as the last. If the rooms hadn't been numbered, he was sure that he would have been walking through the same corridor he had been a moment before.  
  
The young man sighed slightly, letting his mind wander. He idly wondered if Archie and Harold were back on the _Renown_, or if they were somewhere else. Logic would say that they would have been sent back, but the whole situation didn't make sense in the first place, so one could never know what had happened.  
  
What if he were never to see his old ship again? Or if he were to lose his best friend because of some dreamlike phenomenon? Horatio didn't like the thought that he might be trapped in the future with people he didn't know and machines he had no clue how to work. What would he do with his life? Continue working on ships who's sails had been replaced with smoke and steam? Would he be doomed to a life that catered to rich, high-class people that demanded everything be done to their specifications in less time than possible? Hornblower shook his head at the thought and stopped, glancing around once again.  
  
He was completely lost. Trying to turn back and follow his steps back onto the deck, he groaned when he noted a new set of numbers on the doors along the hallway. He was sure that he had never traveled down the row of rooms, and when someone in a tidy uniform walked around the corner towards him, he was amazingly relieved.  
  
A moment of conversation with the young steward told Hornblower that he really wasn't too terribly far from the barber's, and being the typical cynic that he was, he attributed it to luck alone. Then, following the precise directions from his guide, he continued his way through the halls, finally standing in front of a door with a slight frown on his face.  
  
Knocking lightly, the acting-Fifth Officer was rewarded with a smiling man behind it that had swung it open. He was somewhat tall, with a gracious grin on his face. Horatio couldn't help but notice, though, that he was rather bald, and a groan escaped lightly in his throat. That wasn't the barber; he couldn't be.  
  
"Here for a trim, good man?" the man asked, obviously eyeing the locks tied behind Hornblower's head.  
  
"Yes, sir." Hornblower nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. "Does the barber happen to be in?"  
  
The older man nodded under his mustache. "Augustus Weikman at your service."  
  
The Third Lieutenant couldn't help but smirk at his misfortune, and stepped past the man as he moved aside. "A pleasure," the younger man replied, almost wincing at the slight contempt that seemed to edge his voice.  
  
Sitting in the chair, he listened to Weikman chatter consistently about passengers with little interest. It wasn't until he felt the first brutal cut that he winced, feeling his long ponytail separated from his head. Everything felt too light to him after that point, and with each rasping snip he flinched involuntarily until the barber reprimanded him and he forced himself to remain still. At that point, he was sure he would regret, and even mourn the loss of his hair.  
  
  
  
"Have the warnings all posted, do you?" Joseph Boxhall asked, leaning over Moody's shoulder with a bit of a grin. The Fourth Officer was usually left to navigation outside of his normal duties, and he was an excellent navigator. So it made him smile to see his watch partner working on charting himself.  
  
"As soon as I get 'em," Moody answered, brow furrowed in concentration. Sir was rarely used among the three junior most officers, as they all were roughly the same age and got along well. "We'll be coming up on an ice field."  
  
Boxhall glanced over the map posted above the table. "Think the Captain plans on slowing?"  
  
"I would hope so. From what I can gather, it's quite a stretch." James rubbed his eyes before getting back to the mathematics and maps. "Nothing to plow blindly into."  
  
"No... definitely not," Joseph agreed, kneeling next to Jimmy's chair to watch. "Where's Harold?"  
  
"Getting his hair cut, I think."  
  
Boxhall frowned for a moment. "So it's true that he grew a foot of hair in less than an hour?"  
  
Moody bit down a smirk, and did his best to nod solemnly. "I'm sure it was The Coffee." He couldn't resist, however, a grin when he noticed the involuntary shudder Joseph gave when he mentioned the less-than-safe beverage.  
  
"We'd better be getting a new stock when we hit New York, that's all I'm going to say," Boxhall muttered, as he stood back up. "I don't know what went bad with it, but it's certainly not fit to drink."  
  
"I think it's someone's idea of a sick joke, honestly." Moody sat back in the chair, setting his pencil down and looking up at Joseph with a joking smile. "That or someone's trying to poison us."  
  
"Either or, I won't touch the stuff."  
  
Not a moment after Joseph had come to his point, Horatio managed to make his way into the chart room, mentally trying to see past the fact that he had so little hair.  
  
"Harold," Boxhall greeted, giving Hornblower a grin. "Have it all whacked off, eh?"  
  
Moody leaned back further in his chair still, looking at Horatio with a semi-sympathetic smile. "Looks neat, old man."  
  
Nodding, Hornblower leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, his voice slightly bitter. "I think the man would have made me bald if he could have."  
  
Joseph, in a sort of big brother mentality... year younger than Lowe or not, he was a rank above... reached over and pulled the hat off, then eyed the haircut. "Bald? Looks regulation to me, Harry."  
  
"Just barely," Horatio replied, shaking his head. "I guess I grew to like the tail when I had it."  
  
"The unkept rebel look?" the Fourth Officer teased, tossing the hat back to Hornblower. "Or was it something more, oh I don't know... ladylike?"  
  
Jimmy rolled his eyes and swatted Boxhall across the leg with the back of his hand. "Joey, go find something to do with yourself."  
  
"Hey, you're not supposed to be ordering me around..." Boxhall sighed in mock agitation, shaking his head. "What's the service coming to? Long hair and Sixth Officers ordering about Fourth Officers..."  
  
"Oh, will you quit it?!" Moody laughed at the theatrics. "I haven't seen such pitiful acting since my school days!"  
  
"Fine, fine," Joseph sighed again, still in a good mood. "I'll just go and find someone who appreciates my talents." And with that, he slipped from the chartroom.  
  
Smirking, Horatio replaced his hat and looked after Boxhall as he left. "He reminds me of Archie a bit."  
  
"Don't mind him, he's just happy because I'm doing his job for him," Moody snickered, going back to the map and calculations. "Usually it's him who's stuck plotting everything out, and all I generally have to do is supervise the quartermasters and walk the rounds."  
  
"Sounds like a horribly tedious job. You certainly have my sympathies." Chuckling, Hornblower made his way over to the map and looked over what had been placed on the paper meticulously. "Are all of you so well versed in navigation?"  
  
"Mostly, yes," James answered, honestly. "Joseph's by far the best... and the quickest, but all of us know how to handle a sextant." He grinned, brightly. "Afterall, they practically drilled that into me when I was in school, and I know damn well that everyone else was trained by the Royal Navy or whichever company apprenticed them."  
  
"We should be so lucky." Horatio grinned, looking over at his companion. "It came quite easy to me, but I remember that Archie had a hell of a time until it clicked for him one day. I always let him check my calculations, and between the two of us, no one else needs to do much work."  
  
"Boxhall's usually in charge of it, but we all dead-reckon at noon, and at eight." Moody shrugged. "He usually has myself or the Officer of the Watch check his calculations."  
  
"Always a good policy. I think it would be much, much safer to do the same now."  
  
"Which is exactly why I'm posting it." James grinned slightly. "And with any luck, it'll be talked about and they'll decide to slow." In the back of his mind, he added to himself, _"Lord willing."  
_


	10. Part IX Nope, it was Hobbs

**Part IX - Nope, it was Hobbs**  
  
- -------- -  
  
On board the _Renown_, the two young lieutenants had gone up on deck to take over for Bush and Buckland much to the superiors' relief. The days seemed hot when in the sun carrying full uniform, so it was always great appreciated when an officer was able to step below for a moment. Buckland, who wasn't on deck much in any case was quick to go back to his cabin, but Bush remained to talk to the younger officers, idly.  
  
"A barber, was it, Mr. Hornblower?" William asked, giving Harold an actual smile. The man didn't smile a great deal on the _Renown_, for the ship always seemed to carry a cloud of oppression above it, but it was a fine day and a lazy breeze... despite the heat, the atmosphere was actually pleasant enough.  
  
"Yes, sir," Lowe answered, a bit of a smirk stealing across his face. "A very good barber."  
  
Kennedy leaned against the railing and bit his tongue to keep himself from laughing, merely listening to the two converse.  
  
Bush smiled a bit wider for it, taking the opportunity to show that he did have a sense of humor beneath the weathered features and stoic attitudes of a senior lieutenant. "I'm rather amazed that he managed to not only get the tail, but to square off the back and sides so neatly."  
  
Lowe refrained from shooting the senior officer a look, but not by much. Instead he cleared his throat, his face going a little red in a manner that had nothing to do with the sunlight. "Indeed, sir."  
  
"How did your reading go, Mr. Kennedy?" William asked, looking over at Archie. He wasn't going to push the hair issue too badly, for sake of not losing what camaraderie he had established in his short time on the _Renown_.  
  
"Quite well, sir," the Fourth Lieutenant grinned, thinking back to the play that he had been reading when Lowe had come in. "Very informative."  
  
Bush nodded, looking out over the water for a moment before looking back between the two juniors. "Well, it's not much of a wind, but we have the tops'ls rigged to make use of it." He nodded to them. "I'll leave you gentlemen to it."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Harold answered, touching his hat.  
  
Kennedy followed example, smiling despite himself. "Have a good evening, sir."  
  
"I'm hoping to," Bush chuckled, returning the salute before making his way down below.  
  
Waiting until William had left, Archie then looked over at Harold and then back out over the ship. "Well, he seems to fit in all right despite just transferring here."  
  
"Which side of the rail does he ride in regard to the Cap'n?" Lowe asked, dropping his voice to a near whisper and leaning close enough to Archie to avoid having it overheard.  
  
Letting his voice grow quiet as well, Kennedy let his eyes trace over the small crew that still remained on deck. "I'm not completely sure yet. He seems very strict; very much akin to taking orders well and following them perfectly."  
  
"Doesn't allow for a good deal of judgment..."  
  
"He seems a little less stiff now, though... like he's settled in. I think maybe we should wait before deciding what to think of him." Interlocking his fingers, Archie remained leaning against the rail with no intentions of leaving his friend to fend for himself on such a misguided ship.  
  
Lowe nodded to himself and to Kennedy. "Well, we're not making the best time right now, so I have a feeling that we'll have plenty of opportunity to figure it out."  
  
"You're right." Looking up at the sails with a squint, the younger man shook his hand and took his hat off. "I haven't seen winds this bad in a long time."  
  
"Tops'ls seem to be picking it up, but the mains'ls are dead," Harold commented, shaking his head and eyeing the lines up. "We can't be doing more than one or two knots."  
  
"Not very glorifying for a ship commanded by the hero of the Nile." Archie smirked, looking down at his worn hat. "Of course, if man could control the winds, then there would be no need for any of us. Why work to harness the wind when you can tell it which way to come from?"  
  
"Good point," Lowe conceded, then added, "Wait for the days when a bunker of coal will let you decide when the wind can't, though, and you'll want to be back where everything depended on it."  
  
"I suppose you're right. I certainly can't imagine such a fate, and I know damned well that I'd never work on anything but a ship like this."  
  
"You're lucky to be here, then."  
  
Kennedy chuckled lightly and looked over at Lowe, caught off guard by the fact that he had a kindred spirit to talk to, even if they were supposed to know each other. "What made you take the jump?"  
  
Lowe caught his gaze for a moment before looking back at the sails above. "I suppose it was a good career move at the time... to get in young on the steamers before they became the entire ocean so that I wouldn't be left behind." The older man frowned. "I enjoyed the steam at first, but it didn't take long to miss this."  
  
"Good career move? What's that, then?" Shaking his head, Archie chuckled and straightened up, still fidgeting with his hat.  
  
"Wish I would've said that," Harry chuckled himself.  
  
"No, I think that working on the ocean is something that could never go too terribly wrong for a person. They know that if a storm blows up on them they're just as likely to die as if they were to be thrown over the side to drown. Likewise, they know that if they do their job right and follow orders, they'll collect pay, even if it's less than the woman of 'questionable character' in port make most of the time." The younger man laughed. "It's all so cruel, yet so appealing."  
  
Lowe gave Archie a brief, affectionate look, breaking into a smile. "Kennedy on Sailing Philosophy. I say, Archie, you should write a book to that effect so lads like me have some guidance when we run away at fourteen to jump aboard a schooner."  
  
Archie raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wooden rail and letting his elbows support him. "Good God, running away? It couldn't have been that bad at school."  
  
"No, it wasn't that," Harry explained, still smiling slightly. "My father didn't want me to take to the water... he insisted that I apprentice under a carpenter or metal worker. I insisted that I wanted to be paid for my labours, and that I wanted to sail. We fought over it until I took matters into my own hands."  
  
"And I'll bet you don't regret it," Kennedy smiled, looking Lowe over.  
  
"Not in the least." Lowe shrugged, then returned the look. "What about you?"  
  
Archie laughed slightly, returning his hat for the sake of relief from the bright sun. "Me? I was the first in my family to take to the water, and they were basically happy to see me go. Youngest of the kids and certainly a burden, so they happily afforded me the money for school and practically packed my bags."  
  
"Leaving us both drifters, eh?"  
  
"Certainly. Of course, I didn't really have trouble at home; just wanted to get away for a while, which managed to turn into a long while. Used to get letters from mum all the time, but not anymore so much. I think maybe they get lost on the way to port."  
  
"Hm." Harold shook his head, looking down at the crew. "Lost or 'misplaced', likely." He frowned, looking over at Archie. "When's the last time you saw Hobbs?"  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Kennedy turned and looked behind him. "I haven't seen him. Want me to find him?"  
  
"I've got it," Lowe answered, looking about himself for a moment. "I'll be back as quick as possible." Turning, the acting-Third Lieutenant made his way to the stairs for the maindeck, just reminded of his little plan again.  
  
Frowning at the thought of the officer of the watch running around below decks, Archie turned and straightened his uniform, ready to cover for Lowe.  
  
  
  
Hobbs sat in the galley, slowly nursing at some rum while a good amount of the crew mulled around him, dancing and singing like they had nothing better to do. The gunner grinned, watching the happens and glad to be off the deck and out of sight of the officers.  
  
It took Harold longer than he would have liked to find his way into the Mess, but he knew that would be the best place to find Hobbs if he hadn't turned in for the night. Setting a keen gaze on the crew, he singled out the gunner and made his way over slowly, taking a way to prevent his approach being seen. Once at the gunner's shoulder, he leaned down near level to his ear. "Mr. Hobbs, if I might have a word with you."  
  
Jumping, the large man turned and looked at who he believed to be Hornblower. "Sir? Yes, sir..."  
  
Lowe gave him a grin, nodding his head towards the stairs that would lead back on deck. Without another word, he made his way up the steps, not looking back, and was soon back on the quarterdeck. Hobbs followed behind, doing his best not to growl and wondering what menial task he would have to perform next.  
  
Harold led him back to the rail, out of earshot of anyone else and leaned in close. "Relax, I'm only going to ask a small favor."  
  
"A favor, sir?" The older man looked somewhat suspiciously at Lowe.  
  
Lowe sighed, rubbing his eyes in what most would take for upset. "I'm sure it's come to your attention by now that I've been... well, deprived of my hair."  
  
"Yes, sir. The captain was looking for the man earlier this evening."  
  
"There was no man," Harold sighed, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. He looked at Hobbs with an imploring look, near desperation. "I quite foolishly slipped with my razor, and then had to do what I could to save myself from ridicule... afterall, it wouldn't look good for a lieutenant to lose a chunk of his tail because he was careless, would it?"  
  
"No, sir, I suppose not..."  
  
Lowe gave him a look, smiling slightly and resting an arm across the other man's shoulders. "Tell me, have you ever considered being a barber?"  
  
Hobbs frowned and looked over at Harold, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow you, sir."  
  
Lowe turned the charm up another step. "Well, you and I both know that Cap'n Sawyer has no love for me. You, however, are much esteemed in his eyes. Now, were you to claim to be the barber who jumped me, you would likely be commended and I... I would be saved the embarrassment of being found out."  
  
Light seemed to dawn on Hobbs and he looked down at his drink. "I'm not sure, sir..."  
  
"A month's worth of my rum rations," Harold persisted, writing off the booze as something he wouldn't touch anyway, "and privileged duty on my watch." Lowering his voice, he put on a slightly pleading aire, "Hobbs, man, I'm desperate here."  
  
"A month?" Hobbs smiled and looked around for a moment. "I've always had a fondness for sheers, sir."  
  
Lowe's face broke into a bright and surprisingly sincere grin as he briefly tightened his grip around the taller man's shoulders before stepping aside. "I'll find a way to pay you back aside from the rum." He nodded. "And I have your word, good sir?"   
  
"My word, sir," Hobbs nodded.  
  
Harold clapped him on the back in real and honest thanks. "Terrific! You're dismissed, and have a good evening."  
  
The gunner grinned at the thought of extra rum rations, praise, and getting one over on the Third Lieutenant, then went below to find the captain and make himself known.  
  
Harold watched him depart before making his way forward to the front of the quarterdeck, where Archie still paced. Quite pleased with himself, he gave the younger man a smile. "Well, that's one loose end tied up, then... or snipped off, as it were."  
  
"How so?" The younger lieutenant looked at Lowe in the beginnings of sunset and raised an eyebrow.  
  
Harold grinned. "A month's worth of rum, a desperate plea or two, and Mr. Hobbs has become a barber, my dear Mr. Kennedy."  
  
Archie whistled, shaking his head. "A month of rum rations?"  
  
"Well, it's not the biggest loss, I hope." Harold shrugged, watching the sunset now with a still happy smile. "But it certainly explains the hair and leaves one less thing to be used against us."  
  
"You can say that again." Kennedy grinned, taking his hat off once again. The wind seemed to be picking up some, and he would be on shift sooner or later, so he decided staying with Lowe would be all right.  
  
Harold picked his head up, taking in the breeze for a moment before looking to Archie. "Think we should re-rig 'er?"  
  
"I don't think it will last, but if it does then I think so, yes."  
  
"We'll give it a minute," Lowe murmured, eyeing the topsails. "We'd best make use of it if it shows to be favorable."  
  
"Agreed." Kennedy nodded, watching the sails. "I'll go down and tell him if we do. I think I need a walk to keep me awake."  
  
"Why not go to bed?" Lowe asked, glancing over at Archie in some concern.  
  
"Because I won't make it through watch if I do. Better to be awake and on watch than groggy and on watch, old man," the young man grinned.  
  
"I would take your watch," Harold pointed out. "I'm wide awake."  
  
"Of course." Touching his hat in salute, Archie then moved down the deck towards the Captain's quarters.  
  
Harold watched him go, then turned his attention back to the wind. The breeze wasn't really strong enough to warrant the mainsails, but he knew that the topsails alone were making it wasteful. Frowning, he paced down the quarterdeck railing, resolving himself that the jibs would probably be the best, particularly since they were running on a lazy port tack. Rigged right, they'd catch the wind, and the crew wouldn't have to do a whole lot of work when they switched to a starboard tack. He looked in the direction of where Archie had vanished to, waiting for the Fourth Lieutenant to return.  
  
A good ten minutes later brought Archie back to Harold, somewhat redder than he was before he left. Sawyer followed behind him, looking up at the sails and judging the wind around him like any good Captain.  
  
"Sir," Lowe said, respectfully, touching his hat to Sawyer in salute. He would have to tread carefully with the senile captain, no matter how badly it put his hackles up.  
  
The captain looked at the Third Lieutenant. "Re-rig, Mr. Hornblower?"  
  
"Aye, Captain. I was going to ask your permission to run up the jibs, sir, and make use of this fine evening breeze."  
  
Eyeing the young officer, Sawyer paused his answer before finally nodding. "Then what are you waiting for?!" he snapped.  
  
Lowe nodded respectfully again, though a spark of fire shot through his brown eyes as he turned back to forward and barked out sharply, "Hoist the jibs, men! Rig for starboard!"  
  
Sawyer watched a moment longer and moved back to his cabin leaving the two lieutenants on the deck.  
  
Harold watched the men work the lines, somewhere between angry and admiring of the way they worked. His only betrayal of his dislike of Sawyer was the set of his shoulders, typically defiant.  
  
"He's bloody insane," Archie muttered quietly, putting his hands on the rail.  
  
"You don't need to tell me," Harry agreed, likewise very quiet. He noted the motion of the ship pick up slightly as the jibs were rigged.  
  
Nodding, the younger man then shook his head. "The damn bastard said that I was a disgrace to the Navy, that's what he did." Whispering somewhat harshly, Archie nearly growled, "Said that I should have ended up without my tail as well, and over the side of the ship. I have it in my mind to take that man and--"  
  
Lowe shot him a look, his own voice a low growl from the insult and from worry, "Hold your tongue, Kennedy..."  
  
Literally biting at his tongue, the younger man nodded and took a deep breath, pacing a few steps back and forth.  
  
Harold leaned over, taking Kennedy's arm and getting up next to the younger man's ear, his voice apologetic, "His time will come, Archie. If it does you any good, however, I think that you're a far better officer than he or anyone else has given you credit for." Locking eyes with Archie for a moment, he then turned back to the rail.  
  
Looking after Lowe, he sighed after a moment and nodded, stepping over to his friend. "Thank you."  
  
"Lord help us both," Lowe murmured, aside, eyes on the maindeck. "And with any luck, we'll make it out of this mess in one piece."  
  
"Yes, let's hope."  
  



	11. Part X Getting the Lowe Down

**Part X - Getting the Lowe Down**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
"It's quite a field," Wilde commented, looking at the chart with his hands clasped behind his back and his blue eyes tracking across the posted warnings so far, "if it does extend that far, we may have to change course or slow down."  
  
Murdoch looked over the Chief Officer's shoulder at the chart and nodded. "Seems that way, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes..." Henry looked over at Moody, who was standing back. "Have you gotten any more in?"  
  
"No sir," James answered, shaking his head.  
  
"Maybe that'll be the last of them," Will pondered, standing back himself and crossing his arms in front of him. "Any more and I think we'd best tell the Captain."  
  
Wilde nodded, turning his back to the chart and leaning on the table. "Mr. Moody, you and Mr. Lowe will check for ice warnings at the beginning of your shifts." He looked at Boxhall, who had been reading over Moody's calculations. "Mr. Boxhall, you're in charge of charting every warning we recieve, and reporting it to the watch officer."  
  
"Aye, sir," Boxhall answered, perhaps a bit absently.  
  
Nodding, Murdoch grinned and walked out of the chartroom and back to the Bridge with Wilde. "Think this could be trouble, Henry?"  
  
"I don't know yet, but it well could be." Henry paced for a moment, frowning. Lightoller was the Officer of the Watch, but Wilde rarely had an easy time sleeping on the _Titanic_, so he stayed around for lack of anything better to do. "We could do no worse than keep a sharp eye on it, though."  
  
"I think so too. Seems like we're being pushed as it is."  
  
"Oh, you have that feeling too, do you Will?"  
  
Murdoch nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. "I think we'd do well as it is, but she's only just been put out and at these speeds?"  
  
"I don't know." Wilde shook his head, stopping for a moment in his pacing to rub his eyes. "I still feel it, dammit, and it's driving me crazy."  
  
"Well, don't let it get to you too terribly much, Henry." Will gave him a good pat on the shoulder and looked between the two. "Well, gentlemen, I think I'll be off for a while."  
  
"Sleep well," Henry said, forcing a smile.  
  
Lightoller nodded in agreement. "And sweet dreams, Will."  
  
The First Officer touched his hat with a grin and made his way to his room as Horatio finally ventured back onto the Bridge.  
  
Lightoller looked at him, face immobile, but a definite sparkle in his vivid, ice-blue eyes. "Have any more encounters with The Coffee, Mr. Lowe?"  
  
"No, sir," Hornblower replied, blushing somewhat. "Not recently."  
  
Wilde smiled in earnest this time, though it wasn't a big one. "Learned a valuable lesson, did you?" the Chief asked, trying to keep the chuckle from his voice.  
  
"Quite, sir," Horatio cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed by the fact even though The Coffee really hadn't been to blame.  
  
Henry nodded. "Well, you're to check for ice warnings at the beginning of every shift, in case Mr. Moody hasn't informed you."  
  
"Yes, sir, very good, sir."  
  
"I suppose I'd best follow Mr. Murdoch's example, in that case," Wilde said, resolving himself to try to sleep for the few hours he had left until the shift was over and his would begin. Very quietly, he commented to Lights as he walked past him, "Keep an eye on him, Mr. Lightoller."  
  
Lightoller nodded, touching his hat. "Sleep well, Chief."  
  
Frowning at the fact that whispered words had been passed between the two men, Hornblower put his hands behind his back and turned to look over the bow of the ship. A moment or two later, Moody walked onto the Bridge, looking fairly worn out. Lowe... or Hornblower in this case... was on duty, and Jimmy could have technically gone to bed, but he couldn't very well leave Horatio fend for himself when the seniors were acting that suspicious. He nodded to Lightoller. "Sir."  
  
"Mr. Moody," Charles replied, not taking his gaze from where he had set it on the blackened horizon.  
  
Horatio nodded to James, offering what smile he could before gesturing for the Sixth Officer to join him outside the Bridge.  
  
James nodded as well, and slipped off to Starboard, waiting until they were out of earshot before asking, "Are you all right?"  
  
"Quite," Horatio replied, putting his hands behind his back once again. "Just worried that the seniors are suspicious."  
  
"I think they are," James said, softly, leaning on the railing, "but if we're lucky, they'll be more concerned with the ice warnings and it won't be made an issue."  
  
"They strike me as men who could worry about both sufficiently. Is there anything I can do to be more like Mr. Lowe?"  
  
The Sixth Officer thought for a moment, now that he had reasonable time to do so. "Well, for one, don't be quite so quick to follow orders. I mean, follow them quickly, just not _that_ quickly..."  
  
Nodding, the older man committed the suggestion to memory, knowing for sure that it would come in handy.  
  
"Might be good to keep in mind that you've been on the water some fourteen years now, but only fifteen months with White Star." Moody frowned slightly. "That you ran away at fourteen and signed aboard a coastal schooner as a Ship's Boy, that you're not really afraid of much of anything, and that you certainly aren't known for being tactful."  
  
"Sounds like a role much better suited for Archie," Horatio muttered, looking around with some nervousness.  
  
"There you go," Jimmy chuckled, shaking his head. "Act like Archie would, but with your own natural leadership skills, and you'll have Harold Lowe."  
  
"I shall certainly try my hardest."  
  
"And do try to be a little more Welsh." Moody winked, knowing that it wasn't an easy feat. "Harry's not half as formal as you are, even on duty, and 'shall' isn't a word he uses all that often. It would be more, 'I'll do what I can'."  
  
Hornblower nodded, mentally cursing himself for feeling like he was a midshipman back in Spithead once again. "I think I can do that."  
  
James gave him a worn smile, patting him on the back reassuringly. "I know you can, Horatio. Just takes a little bit of acting."  
  
The acting-Fifth Officer smiled and nodded at the kind gesture. "Why don't you get some rest?"  
  
"What, and leave you here to battle off the seniors?" Moody smiled. "Only if you think you can handle it."  
  
"I'll just steer clear of them as much as I can, and pretend The Coffee's given me amnesia the rest," Hornblower snickered lightly. James had explained just how bad the noxious brew was earlier, and though it sounded odd, it seemed like a half-way reasonable explaination if it really was that bad.  
  
Moody nodded, grinning back. "Well, then I suppose I'd better make use of the three and a half hours I've got left. If you need me for anything, come and get me." The younger man nodded, formally and kindly. "All good luck to you, sir."  
  
"Sleep well, Jimmy." Horatio grinned, nodding.  
  
James bit down the urge to call him 'Horry', a nickname that would in the future likely haunt the other man, and walked back to his quarters. He left his uniform laying on the floor in amazing disarray when he changed into his nightclothes, and then crawled into his bunk. Just before he fell asleep, he said a silent prayer for Horatio and himself to make it through, and for God to watch over Archie and Harry, wherever they may have ended up, and then he was out.  



	12. Part XI I Can't Believe I'm Doing This

**Part XI - "I Can't _Believe_ I'm Doing This"**  
  
- -------- -  
  
Late nights on a ship were nothing more than invitations for a nap when it came to Archie Kennedy. Yawning, his paced back and forth on the deck in an attempt to keep himself awake. He hadn't been able to get much sleep since he had woken up in the middle of a strange place in a time where nothing seemed to have reason to it. He wished that he had forced himself to sleep as the bell was struck behind him.  
  
He wasn't having a bad time with Harold on board, but he still missed Horatio. Kennedy knew that there were just some things that he couldn't and wouldn't tell the Fourth Lieutenant, but he seemed to want to spit out his life story to Lowe. Perhaps the whole reason he was compelled to do so was because Harry was willing to listen where Horatio would sympathize for a moment before replying with some heartwarming story that just seemed to rip at Archie's heart. He loved his family, and they loved him, but things weren't always the easiest.  
  
With three older brothers, Kennedy almost felt like an outcast when he was home. The lieutenant looked back on his childhood and expected to remember pranks and gags that would make him chuckle, but he saw nothing of the sort. If he only remembered one thing vividly, it would be how protective his brothers had been when he was a boy. Even a mean glare directed at the youngest of the Kennedy boys brought forceful glares and rolled up sleeves from the rest.  
  
In a way, Archie was bothered by the fact that he wasn't treated like any normal younger brother. He was practically pampered by both of his parents and they all regarded him as if he were made of glass that was old and brittle, willing to break at the slightest breeze, or the lightest hug. At first it seemed like a way of life for Kennedy, but when he began to make friends and see all of their families, he came to the conclusion that he was the one that was being treated oddly. Even as a boy of eight, he knew that there was something terribly wrong with his life and the course it was running.  
  
Probably the most important factor that changed how the child looked at his life was a young boy he had met while playing out in the forest behind his house. Both boys had managed to run into each other, and after a lengthy stick fight, each ended up in the grass, hair tousled and throats stinging with laughter. Archie later found out that the boys name was Jonathan Adderham, but at that time all he knew was that this short brown haired boy was someone who knew how to put up a good fight.  
  
The striking blow would have come a good few hours later while the sun was just setting and the boys had been talking for quite a while. It seemed as if they had known each other forever until Jonathan, who preferred to be called Johnny, brought up the fits that were never anything out of the ordinary to young Archie. Confused, the little blond Kennedy seemed exasperated to find that epilepsy was very uncommon for the residents of his town, let-alone in children. Of course, they were called "falling out spells" to soften the delicate nature of the situation back then, but Archie sooner or later translated the soft words to epilepsy.  
  
At eight years old, it was terribly difficult for Archie to realize that he was the child who was different, and at time, he even became angry with the fact that he hadn't been told. Of course, his family being caring as they were, felt it necessary to let Archie grow up as any other child would, and in his best interest, passed it off as something that shouldn't be mentioned, and certainly something that should be taken care of gently. It was only after finding out in such a cruel way did he realize why his brothers were so protective, and why the other boys never cared to get into any brutal, elbow scraping battles. Everyone saw him as fragile and avoided him because of it.  
  
Kennedy rebelled not long after finding out, doing his best to pick fights in the school yards and trying his hardest to make his bothers angry. Once in a while he succeeded, only to reprimanded by his mother and looked at sternly by his father. Looking back, he could hardly even remember a time in his childhood that he had been beaten for doing wrong. It certainly didn't seem natural for the twenty-three year old when he looked back over the years.  
  
When Archie finally believed he was old enough to make his own decisions, he sat his family down and had a long talk around the old family table. He wasn't going to be the glass child anymore, he told them so in his most mature fashion. When he finally told his parents that he planned on joining the Navy, his mother shed her tears and his father shook his head, but his brothers looked at him with admiration, unbelieving that their youngest brother had come to such a conclusion on his own accord.   
  
After such a nervous talk, his mother tried many times to talk him out of his fate on the ocean, but Archie would have no part of it, and when his parents saw the determination in his eyes, they could do nothing but offer him the money he needed for schooling, and a blessing that he would be safe under the eyes of God. The last memory he had while in his own house was as a twelve year old lad, standing tall in front of his mother who was trying her hardest not to cry. "What about your fits?" She had asked, delicately, taking her youngest son's hand, to which he replied softly, "I haven't had one in years and I don't intend to have one any time soon." They exchanged their quiet good-byes and he kissed his mother on the cheek before managing to walk out the door of his comfortable home, gripping tightly at what little belongings he had thought to take with him.  
  
By the time he had found his spot as Fourth Lieutenant on the _Renown_, he had been plagued by fits from his past, and the letters from his family had trickled to a stop. Once again he felt as if he was the one that everyone tiptoed around. Even Horatio seemed careful about what he would say to Kennedy. However, Harold seemed to know how far he could venture into the younger man's mind, even if he never tried to, and that gave Archie a sense of adventure as well as kinship. Someone seemed to understand him completely for once, and still liked him as he was. It was a different and new feeling, but not something the twenty-three year old feared.  
  
Leaning on the railing, Kennedy remained lost in thought as he came to the conclusion that having Harold around was like having a brother that wasn't afraid to beat the snot out of a little English pup. He was the type of person that knew things would be all right in the end, and just the thought of someone who didn't go easy on him because of his condition made him smile.  
  
The man in question was barely awake himself, as he leaned on the railing with his eyes sliding closed every few minutes only to be snapped open again by a brutal shake of the head. Lowe was tired out. He was deprived even of the short four hours of offtime he had aboard the _Titanic_ for sake of sticking with Archie and trying his damnedest to survive on a backwards ship at only the start of a long journey. But now, as a day had passed, his mind wasn't half as sharp as normal and it was only willpower and stupidity that kept him on his feet.  
  
Really, it was anyone's guess whether it was more will or stupidity, but given the heavy stance and the groggy look in Harold's eyes, it seemed to be leaning with stupidity even as the bells rang out. Add in the fact that he was starving, and the entire night seemed to be taking forever. Briefly, the Welshman rubbed at his eyes, dully unsurprised when they refused to open again, and tried to fight down a yawn with no success.  
  
Archie noticed the long yawn and eyed Harold sympathetically. "Why don't you go below? I'll bring you something to eat when Mr. Bush comes up and relieves me."  
  
"'M fine," Lowe mumbled in response, still battling it out like a stubborn fool. "Just resting m'eyes."  
  
"They look more like they're resting in peace. Come on, old man, get some rest before you pass out and I have to find someone to carry you below." Taking off his hat, the younger man grinned lightly, leaning on the rail as well, and listening to the waves lap against the side of the hull.  
  
"Hm..."  
  
William made his way up in fortunate time, walking to the railing. He looked wickedly awake, having just gotten up from a reasonably peaceful sleep, and he smiled at Archie and Harold, though the older of the two didn't even acknowledge his presence. "Gentlemen."  
  
Touching his hat, Kennedy smiled at Bush and elbowed Harry lightly in an attempt to wake the poor soul.  
  
"Not due on watch yet, Jimmy," Harry mumbled, though the words were practically unintelligible.  
  
Bush raised an eyebrow, leaning over to eye Lowe in something between amusement and concern. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he looked like a standing corpse..."  
  
"Not quite so yet, sir." Grinning, Archie leaned close to Harold's ear and took a deep breath before letting out a bellowing yell, "HORATIO!!!"  
  
The resulting leap was impressive, though not quite so impressive as the landing. Lowe landed with his eyes wide open and his breathing hard, both fists up and shaking, and he did actually take a swing, but Bush caught his arm halfway. The senior officer was surprised that the Third Lieutenant was even capable of fighting, let alone instinctively... it didn't strike him as something Horatio would do. "Mr. Hornblower, it might not be the wisest thing to punch the nearest person out."  
  
Harold caught himself before be turned on William, and the wild look left not long after as he cleared his throat turned a little red. "Sorry, sir."  
  
"Quite all right," Bush replied, giving him a half-smile. "Though you may want to go below and get some sleep before someone loses teeth."  
  
"Aye, sir," Harry said, taking a deep breath.  
  
Archie snickered at the whole scene, shaking his head and leaning on the rail goodheartedly. "My thanks to you, Mr. Bush. I've grown to like my teeth, though I doubt this bloke could do too much damage." He paused a moment and grinned, looking at Lowe. "With all due respect, of course, sir."  
  
"_Don't_ do that again, Kennedy," Lowe warned, nearly growling now that his heart wasn't trying to make a forced exit from his ribcage, "or there will be a row."  
  
"Not on deck, if you please, Mr. Hornblower," Bush broke in, heavily, before anything bad could come of it. "Below, the both of you."  
  
"Aye, sir," Harold answered, after a pause.  
  
"Aye _aye_, sir," Archie seemed to add, touching his hat once again and starting below. Lowe followed a moment later, now very much awake and still running high on adrenaline.  
  
"Anywhere to get something to eat this late?" Harold asked, a slight note of apology in his voice, which was likely the closest thing to an apology he would give for threatening Archie.  
  
"Well, the galley's not open, but I think we could probably at least sneak some biscuits and go to the wardroom to eat. That is, unless you'd rather go to your box."  
  
"Whichever's easiest," Lowe commented, looking around the very dimly lit below decks. "Lead on."  
  
Managing his way through the decks quite easily, the younger lieutenant stopped outside the galley and slipped inside long enough to retrieve some food for the both of them. Making his way back down the hallways with Lowe, he quietly opened the door to the wardroom, and finding it empty, he stepped inside and started to light the candles with the one that had been left ablaze.  
  
Harold sat down at the table, inspecting the biscuit before munching on it halfheartedly. He rather missed the Officers Mess on _Titanic_, where a meal could be had at all but the most odd of hours. A hot meal, with tea... not coffee, Harry reminded himself with a slight smile. Definitely not coffee, not that coffee, which was so bad that it required special emphasis and could make everyone on the Bridge shudder. But the tea was good, and so was the roasted beef and the fresh fruits and vegetables... well, the biscuit wasn't bad, if not a bit dry. He had lived on less before and could again.  
  
A short glance was offered to Archie, who had finished with his candles and taken a seat. Lowe smiled slightly, hoping to make up a little for his harsh words on deck -- he had a temper and it had on occasion got him into trouble. There was no use in losing a friend over it. Quietly, he said, "Thank you."  
  
The younger of the two men smirked and looked over at his companion. "Not many people are thankful for hard biscuits."  
  
"Or for a hand in getting adjusted?"  
  
"You would have done the same for me." Picking at his bread idly, Archie picked up two cups from on the table. "Want something to drink?"  
  
"Water if it's possible," Harold answered, "nothing if it isn't."  
  
"I think I can manage to get you some water. You'll get sick if you don't have something." Smiling, he stepped out the door for a moment and came back with some water that he set in front of Lowe. "Drink 'em both."  
  
"One's enough for me." Harold leaned back in the chair, picking the cup up and nursing it like fine brandy. It was as stale as Hell, though they were only just out of port, but then, he was used to the reasonable amenities of the _Titanic_. It still tasted good.  
  
"But two would be better seeing as how you won't drink the rum." Pulling apart his food some more, Kennedy couldn't help but yawn.  
  
Lowe chuckled quietly, "Don't argue with me, Archie. It's too late for me to have a chance to win."  
  
Laughing, the younger man sat back in his chair as well. "I'm not usually one to argue, but this is something I insist upon."  
  
"Insist, do you? To a superior? Hmmph!"  
  
Grinning, Kennedy swatted at Lowe's arm lightly. "It's for your own good."  
  
"My own good?" Harold fought back a smirk and eyed the younger man suspiciously and appraisingly. "Are you a doctor?"  
  
"No, but I've been to enough to know." Munching on the biscuit, Kennedy snickered lightly.  
  
"Ah yes, the sickly lieutenant who's entire career seems fraught with attacks and opportunities to undermine his captain's authority," Sawyer's voice said, without the mad captain stepping from the shadows by the door. The sound of a musket being cocked very nearly echoed, or perhaps that was just because it was so utterly shattering that it seemed that way.  
  
Thrown somewhat off guard by the whole situation, Archie froze for a moment before getting to his feet, squinting to see where Sawyer was. "S-sir...?"  
  
"Sir." Sawyer stepped out into the candlelit area, the musket pointed at the Fourth Lieutenant. He went on to mimic, "'Yes, sir' or 'no, sir', or 'right away, sir'... oh, but you and your friend are conspiring, aren't you? You seek to make a mockery of me, and of my ship!"  
  
Lowe stood, all thoughts of water, joking or sleep cast aside as he felt anger well up. Still, though, he tried to keep that fire from his voice as he said, "Sir, you look to be in need of rest."  
  
"Oh yes," Sawyer seethed, turning to point the gun at the other lieutenant. "And the ever thoughtful Horatio Hornblower comes to the rescue. Your record's not terribly shiny either, boy."  
  
"No, sir, I imagine it's not to such a highly acclaimed hero as yourself," Lowe shot back, sarcastically. He regretted it not more than a split second later, but by then, it was too late to take the words back.  
  
"You see? Mutiny! I was right, by God, and you'll both hang for it!!" Sawyer glared at the two of them, stepping in front of the doorway.  
  
"Sir," Kennedy pleaded hopefully, "mutiny is the last thing on the minds of these men and ourselves. Now please, put the gun away, sir."  
  
"No!" Narrowing his eyes, the Captain hastily pointed the gun back and forth between the two men. "By God, I'll shoot one of you now, and the other will hang!"  
  
"Like Hell you will!" Harold snarled, leaping like a horse from the gate and bowling into Sawyer. The click of the musket misfiring didn't even occur to him at the time, as he wrestled the gun away and stood again.  
  
Sawyer, however, didn't move.  
  
Archie had jumped at the click, but when the loud sound didn't penetrate the hull of the ship, he looked at the Captain, then to Harold and the gun. "Bloody Hell, give me that thing before it actually does some damage!" Reaching for the gun, he made sure to stand clear of Sawyer, though more concerned that the misfired gun might send a shot into his friend.  
  
"Damn... damn!" Harry half-yelped, not sure whether he should be relieved or terrified about the circumstances. He knelt next to the captain, checking him for a pulse before sighing slightly, "He's still alive."  
  
"Well, that's good, but we won't be if someone finds out what happened..." Carefully fixing the gun, Kennedy then placed it in his belt and knelt next to Sawyer as well. "Bastard deserved it, though."  
  
Lowe moaned, frantically trying to come up with some idea on how to explain or anything that would cross his mind. "We have to do something... dammit, kick me next time I do something this stupid, would you?"  
  
"I'll be sure to." Looking around, Kennedy stood and began to pace. "We have to do something..."  
  
"We could say he fell..." Harold tried, weakly.  
  
"Fell with a gun in his hand?"  
  
"You have the gun," Lowe commented, then possibly the most devious and sickening thought crossed his mind. He didn't know where such an idea came from, but desperation and the knowledge that unless he really came up with something so damn farfetched that it wouldn't be questioned, he would hang and so would Archie had something to do with it. Why would the captain be up and about in his nightclothes, in the wardroom? "Dear God... it might actually work," the Welshman muttered, though he was already turning green at the mental picture.  
  
"What might?" Raising an eyebrow, the younger man stopped and looked at Lowe.  
  
"I can't _believe_ I'm doing this, I can't _believe_ I'm doing this, I can't _believe_ I'm doing this," Harold repeated in a litany, as he began doing what under less desperate circumstances he never would do. He began taking the captain's trousers down.  
  
Blinking, Kennedy wondered if he was seeing things. "Jesus, man, what're you doing?!"  
  
"Don't ask," Harry whimpered, hurriedly finishing his less than noble task. He jumped back to his feet, quickly, his hands shaking. "Take the gun and hide it. Go back to your quarters. You didn't see anything."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Just do it, Archie!" Lowe cried, exasperated and as jittery as a man could possibly get. "Nothing... you saw absolutely nothing, and you've been in your cabin."  
  
"I can't leave you here to take the blame for this," the younger man frowned, looking out the doorway to make sure no one was coming.  
  
Harold wiped his hands on his pants feverishly, then gave Kennedy a light shove between the shoulder blades, hissing, "Dammit, there's no time to argue, just go!"  
  
Looking over the scene once again, Archie then nodded quickly at Lowe. "Good luck, then." Turning, he jogged down the hallway away from the wardroom.  
  
Waiting until Archie was out of sight, Lowe took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He still couldn't believe he was doing this... it couldn't work. It was too insane, too odd... too...  
  
Too un-Hornblower, which is exactly why it could.  
  
Another deep breath to steady his nerves. His hands still trembled slightly, and he was certain it would take at least several showers to ever feel clean again, but there wasn't any time to waste. After a moment to make sure the sickening scene was set, he slipped from the wardroom and headed up to the quarterdeck, where Bush was on watch.  
  
"Sir," Lowe began, trying to keep the shaking from his voice.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, William looked over at the Third Lieutenant. "Mr. Hornblower... I thought for sure you would be asleep by now."  
  
Harold swallowed hard, not having to even act the anxiety and upset. "Sir, there's been an accident..."  
  
"An accident?" Immediately the soft look fled from Bush's face, leaving a hard look of concern. "What's happened?"  
  
"I..." Lowe shook his head, trying to find the right words, "I can't really... I don't think it's prudent of me to say it out loud. It would probably be better to show you."  
  
Contemplating for a moment, Bush finally nodded. "Find someone to take over here and then we'll go below. Unless, of course, it is urgent."  
  
"Very urgent, sir."  
  
Nodding, Bush placed his hat on his head and started below. "Where was this accident, Mr. Hornblower?"  
  
Lowe led him down the steps, dropping his voice to a nervous whisper. "The wardroom, sir. I was going to get something to eat, and I... I... dear God, sir, it's not something I can explain."  
  
Walking quickly through the hallways, William didn't offer any other words, sure that he would get nothing more out of the younger man. Harold winced as he pushed the wardroom door open for his superior, but didn't actually say anything. His stomach was too knotted for him to find words anyway, honest fear coursing through every vein of his body.  
  
Immediately turning his head from the situation in utter disgust, Bush managed to take his hat off, turning to look at Lowe. "How did it happen?"  
  
"I don't know, sir," Harold said, hoping to sound baffled and disgusted himself. Well, disgusted was easy enough. "I was on my way back here for a late dinner, and I found him like this...."  
  
"And you set your food down before reporting this?"  
  
Damn. "Well, yes sir," Harold murmured. "I couldn't very well check his pulse with a biscuit in my hand."  
  
Eyeing the younger lieutenant, William nodded and looked back over the scene with almost a green tint. "Perhaps you should get Mr. Buckland." Nodding to himself, he stepped over the unconscious captain. "Yes. Send someone up to keep watch as well."  
  
"Aye aye, sir," Harold replied, remembering for the first time the second 'aye' in an almost subconscious way. He left the wardroom, hurriedly running back towards where his and Archie's cabins were, hoping that Buckland's would at least be easy to decide. He forced himself to slow his frantic steps as he neared the doors, noting that Kennedy's light was on, and then tapped on the only other lit cabin with a silent prayer.  
  
Jostled from his sleep, Buckland sat up and pushed the book off of his chest. "Yes, what is it?"  
  
"Sir, you're needed in the wardroom."  
  
"Now?" Pertly replying, the First Lieutenant moved to the door and opened it. "This had better be something important, Mr. Hornblower."  
  
"Very important, sir," Lowe answered, his voice a little more tense than normal and his face a shade or two whiter.  
  
Noting the look on Harold's face, Buckland nodded and started off towards the wardroom, not bothering to look back and see if he was being followed or not.  
  
Lowe watched, then moved across and down to Kennedy's quarters, tapping on that door next. "Mr. Kennedy!"  
  
The door opened quickly and Archie looked at Lowe, then looked down both ends of the hall. "What's happening?" Whispering, he made sure no one was around once again.  
  
"You're needed to take over watch for the time being," Harold answered, his own voice low.  
  
The younger man nodded. "Just be careful, Harry."  
  
"I will." Lowe gave him a reassuring smile, even though it was a little strained, then jogged his way back to the wardroom as quickly and quietly as he could. He closed the door behind him when he stepped in. "Mr. Kennedy is taking the watch, sirs."  
  
Bush, looking over the unsteady figure of Harold, nodded, and looked to Buckland who had been shocked nearly silent. "I think perhaps we should get Dr. Clive."  
  
"Would you like me to get him, sir?" Lowe asked, though he hoped that he wouldn't be called to. He had no idea where the surgeon's quarters were.  
  
Bush shook his head, ready to leave the room on his own accord. "No, I'll get him. Clean up your dinner, though, Mr. Hornblower."  
  
"Aye aye, sir," Harold answered, shakily going to gathering up the cups and biscuits. He only belatedly realized there was food for two there, and hoped to everything good that no one noticed that.  
  
Buckland kept his distance from the Captain before looking over at the Third Lieutenant. "You found him like this?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the nervous Welshman answered, stashing bread and the cups into the closest pockets he had.  
  
Shaking his head, Buckland was forced to sit down. "Good God, this won't look good for the service..."  
  
"No, sir." Lowe gave him a worried look. "We aren't that far out of port... we may be able to get back and get this to the admiralty before the word spreads."  
  
"And what of the crew? It will pass through the ship like fire!"  
  
"So far, only you, myself, Mr. Bush, and soon Dr. Clive will know," Harry pointed out, respectfully. "With any luck, sir, we may be able to keep it between us for the short time until we're back in harbour."  
  
Nodding, Buckland remained quiet for the moment that remained before Clive came through the doorway, gasping, "Dear God! What happened?!"  
  
"We... we don't know for certain, sir," Lowe mumbled, going pale again. If anyone could throw a monkey wrench into this insane and halfcocked plan, it was the surgeon. "I... he must have been..." he finished lamely, "...you know."  
  
"So it seems," Clive offered, distastefully, kneeling down and checking on the Captain. A moment or two of silence brought him back to words. "He looks to have hit his head, but I believe he will be all right."  
  
"We have to keep this from the crew, sir," the acting-Third Lieutenant said, hoping desperately that one of the other seniors would jump in, "or his reputation and everyone's will be destroyed."  
  
"Quite right," chimed Buckland, nodding deliberately.  
  
The doctor stood and wiped his hands off. "Of course. I'll have to get him to his room."  
  
Harold winced, but offered, "I would help you, sir." Why he would was beyond him, but perhaps it was something to do with guilt -- even if he sincerely disliked Sawyer, he had just taken and completely destroyed what little career he had left. Still, with any luck, the damage wouldn't be widespread.  
  
Nodding, Clive managed to get the Captain's trousers up without much incident, and took the front end of Sawyer's body. "Take his feet."  
  
The younger man nodded, taking the Captain's feet carefully and helping to hoist him into the air, still being as gentle as he could. He cast a worried glance at Bush and Buckland both, before letting Clive lead him out.  
  
"Have someone set course back to shore." Buckland stood, visibly shaken, and walked out.  
  
Bush touched his hat belatedly, answering to no one to hear, "Aye aye, sir." Pausing for a moment, his sharp and intelligent blue eyes scanned over the room, trying to reconcile the sense that Hornblower hadn't been alone with the logic of bringing no more grief to anyone than necessary. Kennedy had been there. Hornblower was protecting him. If Bush didn't know better, on intuition and experience alone, he would say that something had happened more than the Third Lieutenant had claimed.  
  
In that sense, Lowe's plan worked. There wasn't a single person on board, not even the Captain, who would have expected something so devious. Hornblower may be capable of mutiny, but he was not capable of taking the captain's trousers down and thereby ruining his reputation in such a manner that it would need to be kept silent and resolved as quickly as possible. So, when William Bush came to the conclusion that Horatio hadn't been alone, he also came to the conclusion that other than protecting his friend, nothing had gone wrong on board besides the Captain's overzealousness in...  
  
Hell. William made his way back up on deck, looking to Kennedy. "We're to set course back for port," the senior lieutenant said, quietly.  
  
"Back to port?" Kennedy raised an eyebrow, somewhat tiredly, looking at the senior officer. "Now?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Kennedy, now," Bush snapped, a little on edge himself now. Especially now. A little more gently, he added, "Work out a heading, please."   
  
Kennedy touched his hat, sensing the tension that had been caused. "Aye, aye, sir." Moving away from the Second Lieutenant, he let out a sigh of relief and began to work out the heading back home.  
  
Bush waited for a moment for the navigational heading, then turned to the maindeck, bellowing, "All hands on deck! Pass the order!"  
  
Loud shouts swam across the deck as more and more people were roused to wake. Kennedy leaned on the railing as this happened, his mind wandering and his eyes threatening to close.  
  
William took a moment from his powerful yelling, a brief pause between the men getting to the deck to reswing the yards aloft to pick a west wind up, and the actual deed. Hoping to make up for his gruff approach, he tapped Archie on the shoulder. "Go back below, Mr. Kennedy," the older man said, forcing a half-smile, "before you fall asleep where you stand."  
  
Somewhat startled, Archie looked over at Bush seemingly uncomprehending. "It's quite all right, sir, I'll be fine when things begin to pick up."  
  
Bush nodded slowly, respecting the Fourth Lieutenant's wishes, though he could have made it an order. Looking back to the men, then the calculation in chalk Kennedy had given him, he turned and barked to the quartermaster, "Helm-a-lee!" As the quartermaster turned the wheel, he watched the sails, and as she began to swing away from the wind, he shouted to the maindeck sail crew, working the yards, "Bring 'em around!"  
  
Watching the crew bustle around for a good while, Archie yawned and stretched in an attempt to keep himself alert. It wasn't until Harold came on deck that he realized that he probably wasn't the sleepiest person on the ship. The wayward Fifth Officer looked as though he was one of the walking dead. His eyes were nearly closed, and he walked with little spirit in his step.  
  
Feeling it best, Kennedy moved over to his friend and stood next to him. "You should get some sleep, Harry," he offered, quietly.  
  
"Probably," Lowe agreed, yawning. He felt about how he looked, now that the absolute most immediate crisis had been covertly avoided. Smiling to himself, he fished one of the partially chewed on biscuits out of his pocket. "Hungry?" he teased, trying to be lighthearted. "I know I'm not."  
  
"Me either," Archie grinned, taking the biscuit and eyeing it up. "Of course, fuzzy biscuit seems much more appealing than one would think." Laughing lightly, the young lieutenant picked at the bread with no real intent to eat it.  
  
Harold chuckled, leaning on the quarterdeck railing with most of his weight. The feeling of the _Renown_ settling into her new course was enough to unstep his usually excellent balance, but he was aware of the speed picking up now that she was running with the wind instead of tacking against it. "How long d'you suppose until we're back in harbour?"  
  
Leaning next to him, Kennedy managed a shrug and tore a small piece of the biscuit off. "A day or two, I suppose. Maybe quicker if the wind works with us." Popping the bread into his mouth, he looked over at Bush for a moment before looking back to Harry.  
  
"Tomorrow evening," Bush said, face tilted to the stars. "The wind'll be stronger at dawn, provided we have fair weather."  
  
"That's good, all given," Lowe agreed, his own head bowed slightly and his eyes closed lightly. "A fair west wind, and even better if we can catch the high tide going in."  
  
"Might I ask why we're going back to port, sir?" Archie turned once again to Bush, putting on an acting mentality. He wasn't going to ruin their chances of success if he could help it.  
  
William looked at the Fourth Lieutenant, pondering for a long moment. For a brief second, he almost wanted to say that Kennedy knew exactly why they were going back, but once again decided to leave him out of it. "No, Mr. Kennedy, you may not," Bush finally chided, though he softened it with a gentle look. "Best not to reason why."  
  
Nodding, Archie looked back towards the front of the ship. "No, sir, I suppose if it's something that we must return to shore for then I'm better off not knowing."  
  
"Very right." Bush smiled again, more sincerely, leaning over to look at Harold, who was fast asleep. If the Second Lieutenant were more cruel, he might have given him a push and knocked him from his precarious balance, but that wouldn't have looked good in front of the crew.  
  
Glancing over at Harold, Kennedy couldn't help but feel bad for him. He had been working on nothing but adrenaline for the past hour, and hadn't had any sleep for a good long time before that. The younger man would have probably woken the older sailor if he had the heart, but letting his friend sleep where he was seemed more important than making him wake again and go below.  
  
"You both should go below and rest, before you take ill," Bush commented, but quietly. "When's the last time you've slept, Mr. Kennedy?"  
  
Rubbing his eyes for a moment, Archie did his best to remember and failed quite readily. "I couldn't say for sure, sir. I would have to say, best guess, twelve or fourteen hours ago."  
  
"Go on below," Bush commanded, nodding in the direction of the stairs. "And take him with you, before he falls over."  
  
"With respect, sir, I was ordered onto watch by Mr. Buckland, though I'd be happy to take Mr. Hornblower below." Making his way over to Harold, he shook him lightly.  
  
"Only temporarily, while I was below," Bush argued, not particularly liking the fact that he would have to go and talk to Buckland to get Kennedy below decks. "If there are any problems with that, I'll take responsibility."  
  
"Aye aye, sir," the younger lieutenant replied, defeated, and shook Lowe once again.  
  
It took a few moments for the Welshman to drag himself back to consciousness, and he picked his head up to look around, forcing himself to look halfway alert. "Yes?"  
  
"Get yourself before, Mr. Hornblower," William said.  
  
"Aye, sir," Lowe answered, forgetting the second aye once again. He looked blearily at the stairs, thinking in the back of his mind that the journey was too long and he would have been thrilled to just sleep on deck.  
  
Taking Harold's elbow, Archie did his best to guide the acting-Third Lieutenant below. "C'mon, not too far to your cabin."  
  
"I'm going, I'm going," Harold murmured, his steps heavy as he trudged down the stairs, trying to remember where he was going. "Hell, I'm worn thin..."  
  
"Yes, I think you need to get a few good hours of sleep, my friend. And then you need to eat a good meal when you wake up." Oddly enough, Kennedy found it somewhat abnormal to be telling such things to a person who looked so much like Horatio. He thought for sure that normal everyday activities would be remembered, but then he reminded himself that his new friend and his best friend were nothing alike in most things.  
  
"Yes, mother," Lowe joked, picking his way slowly back to Hornblower's cabin. "Plan on reading me a bedtime story as well, Archie?"  
  
"I could," Kennedy laughed, "but they would all be in verse and I'm sure you would have heard them before."  
  
"Verse?" Harold shook his head, not quite falling through the door into the small quarters. "I'm not that well read."  
  
Shaking his head, Archie stopped outside the door opposite of his own. "Well, if you ever want something to read, I can let you borrow one of my books. They're mostly Shakespeare, but they're good reading."  
  
"I'll bear it in mind," Harry answered, leaning on the door frame heavily. "Until then, though, I'll..." a slight grin crossed his face, "...I'll bid thee adieu, and pleasant dreams."  
  
Laughing, Archie dipped into a low bow and flashed a smile before disappearing into his own room, quietly.  
  
"Still in one piece," Lowe said to himself, closing his own door and dropping into the hammock without even taking the time to get undressed. "It'll be all right," he reassured, though no one was there to hear it, and let sleep carry him off.  
  
  
Back in his own room, Archie sat back in his hammock and picked up the book he had discarded earlier in the day. He'd read through it many times, but for some reason, Shakespeare's tragedies were more appealing to him than the comedies. He did enjoy the lighter works, but the darker tales always seemed more real to him.   
  
Flipping idly through the book, he smirked and closed it once again, noting the well worn cover as he set it aside and picked up another book that wasn't in much better shape. He wasn't usually the type to write in a journal, but every once in a while he would put quill to paper and scrawl down some words about the his day on the ship, or a short poem that came to his mind.  
  
Figuring it prudent, he moved to get his quill and laid the book carefully on the edge of his bookshelf. Dipping the feather's tip very delicately into his ink well, he began writing in his own messy form, denoting a new entry with a quick line after his last words.  
  
_The strangest thing has happened and I'm not quite sure how I could explain it. Needless to say, this occurrence has brought me two new friends. Harold Lowe and James Moody from the RMS Titanic. It looks crazy to even write such a thing, but here I am with Harry, and it's all real.   
  
He's certainly different from Horatio, even though they bear some striking similarities around the face. I find myself feeling more rebellious when there's someone beside me who treats me as more as a man than a lieutenant. I doubt I could ever say that Mr. Lowe is a better friend than Horatio, but he's certainly no worse. Yes, he's quite a character.  
  
Today was proof that perhaps neither of us are in a good state of mind, though, when we both found ourselves standing in front of Captain Sawyer who was on the floor with his trousers at his ankles. Mr. Buckland has decided to take the ship back to port, so I have a feeling we'll all be on trial soon enough. The whole situation just seems too insane to have been thought up by Harry (or Horatio), which is why I think it might succeed. Of course, there's no telling what can happen until we're on shore once again.  
  
Harry's done his best to protect me by saying that I wasn't in the wardroom when everything happened, but I was. Honestly, I was scared to death to think that I would be shot by a madman, but feared for Mr. Lowe's life more when he lunged for the gun. Either he's a very stupid man or a very brave man. I believe it's the latter.  
  
_Waiting a moment for the ink to dry, Archie could feel his eyes closing slowly, and in a final attempt to keep his thoughts private, he slapped the leather-bound book closed and tucked it carefully in behind his other books. Then, with as much relief as grogginess, he laid back in the hammock and fell asleep. 


	13. Part XII Renowned For Their Trickery No...

**Part XII - Renowned For Their Trickery (No Pun Intended)  
**  
- -------- -  
  
It felt like a tug, one that made Horatio's stomach leap and plummet as he stood on the port side Officer's Promenade. He thought to panic, but by the time he finished that notion, it was over. The feeling of being pulled faded, along with the light, and he saw himself to be in his cabin on the _Renown_. Relief flooded through his mind, as he took in the smell of his own quarters, and then puzzlement as he picked his strewn uniforms up from where they had been left on the floor.  
  
It didn't take him long to tidy up, or to find Lowe's White Star uniform. He smirked to himself as he realized that Harold was now down two uniforms and only had three left, but he folded it very precisely in hopes to return it to it's rightful owner. Then, with a frown, Hornblower realized he was down two uniforms himself.  
  
In the room across the hall, James woke up in a bed that wouldn't stop moving. It rocked back and forth, instantly interrupting his steady flow of mind. Opening his eyes, he looked around the small room with a bit of a foreboding feeling. He certainly wasn't on _Titanic_ anymore, and he wondered if he was still with Horatio or if he once again was with his old shipmate. Climbing out of the hammock and opening the door, Moody was surprised to come face-to-face with Horatio.  
  
"Once again, Mr. Moody, a pleasure." Hornblower grinned slightly, but it faded as he looked to both sides and stepped into Kennedy's room. "I can only assume that both Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Lowe were here before us, judging by the state of my room."  
  
"This isn't good," Moody said, quietly, looking around the room again. "You may be able to pass as Harry, but I can never pass for Archie."  
  
Nodding, Hornblower paced back and forth a few steps. "Maybe we could say that he fell ill and you could just stay here..."  
  
"We may have to." James stood, running his hands through his hair. He didn't even have a uniform -- he was stuck on a strange ship in nothing but his pajamas, with the chance of being hanged as a stowaway.  
  
Striking on a thought, Horatio began digging through the bookshelf.  
  
Jimmy watched for a second, frowning. "What're you doing?"  
  
"Archie has a journal he writes in every once in a while. Let's hope he found the day's events interesting enough to write about them."  
  
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Moody asked, a little uneasy about going through someone else's private thoughts.  
  
Digging out the book, Horatio looked over the faded leather with somewhat of a frown. "I think that perhaps he wouldn't mind if he understood the circumstances."  
  
"Perhaps not," James agreed, though there was definitely some trepidation in his voice when he did.  
  
Sitting on his friend's hammock, Hornblower flipped to the last page that had been written on and began reading, not wanting to venture any farther into Archie's mind. As he read, his jaw managed to knot around the same moment that his face went pale and he began to sweat. "Trousers...?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Moody asked, moving over to read over Hornblower's shoulder. It didn't take him more than a second to realize why Horatio had gone so pale so quickly, and he gasped himself, "Dear God."  
  
Closing the book very slowly, Horatio shook his head. "This isn't exactly what I expected to come home to..."  
  
"No... this isn't exactly what happened in history, either." James sat down on the chair, rubbing his eyes in tension. "We're headed back to port then? Do you remember how far out from harbour you were when we vanished?"  
  
"Three or four days at most, I'd say, but we're working with the wind now, so it shouldn't be too long before we're spotting land again. Especially with the _Renown_ running as well as she is right now." Looking down at the deck, Hornblower nodded to himself and laid Kennedy's journal on his shelf. "Maybe we should use this to communicate back and forth... assuming all of this insanity even happens again."  
  
"It couldn't hurt to try, one way or another." James leaned back in the chair, wondering to himself what time it was. "Once we're back in port, it may be easier to cover for Archie... or harder. I suppose we'll have to wait to see which."  
  
"Well, with any luck, we can say that he's taken ill until we get back to port. I'll have to take his watches, but they're right after mine, so it shouldn't be a problem. We'll just have to be sure that no one sends Dr. Clive to check on him." Pondering, Horatio sat down on the hammock and rubbed his eyes. "I don't understand what could have happened. Captain Sawyer with his trousers down, presumably taken to his ankles by Mr. Lowe, but why?" Frowning to himself, the Third Lieutenant looked to James and brightened his mood with somewhat of a grin. "Leave it to Archie to be brief about something so important."  
  
"We should be happy that he wrote anything at all. It would've definitely caused a problem if you didn't have any clue what had happened." Shrugging, Jimmy did his best to relax in the stiff wooden chair. "Of course, I still don't feel right knowing that we've read Mr. Kennedy's personal thoughts..."  
  
Laughing slightly, Hornblower managed to look relaxed for once. "If it'll ease your mind, James, I'll write him an apology. Until then, though, I think it would be best if I reported to the officer of the watch and informed them that Mr. Kennedy is indeed ill in his room."  
  
"Good luck," Jimmy chuckled, smiling to himself. "Hopefully they'll all be so concerned about the Captain's little mishap that they won't care about poor Archie."  
  
"We can only hope." Standing, Horatio touched his hat and moved out of the room to get changed.  
  
James watched him go before leaning further back in the chair and crossing his arms. He wasn't uncomfortable in the least with the motion of the frigate... like Harold, he had spent a good deal of his boyhood on such ships. In a way, it was almost comforting to feel the lulling gait of a good wind and a rolling sea.  
  
He glanced around the room once again. It actually wasn't much smaller than his cabin on the _Titanic_, so he didn't feel claustrophobic in the mildly confining space. It reminded him of Archie, as well... not as neat as James would have kept the room, but neat enough. The sea-chest was under the hammock, the books were obviously much loved and cared for, despite their age, and somehow it didn't surprise him that most of them were Shakespeare. Kennedy might have seemed to be quite a firebrand, just like Lowe, but Moody had no doubts he was also more sensitive and well-read than immediately apparent.  
  
Which brought his thoughts back to his best friend. Like Horatio, he couldn't understand why Harold would do something so crazy as to take the Captain's pants down. It was such a wild and uncharacteristic thing that there couldn't have been a great deal of planning and thought put into it. But Jimmy knew Harold, and knew him better than most. Whatever had prompted him to take such an action had to have been that natural instinct the Welshman seemed to be afflicted with -- whether it got him into trouble or not.  
  
With nothing else to do, James tried to replay what must have happened in some sense, and more importantly, what Harold must have been thinking when he did it. The most immediate notion, which brought a grin to Jimmy's face, was that Lowe had lost his marbles, but he discarded that even as it made him chuckle. Then he tried to come to another conclusion... history said that Sawyer had fallen down into the hold and suffered a head injury. Though it was a few days earlier than intended, it had almost repeated itself so far. Sawyer had drawn a gun on Harold and Archie. Harold had lunged after the gun, and probably bowled into the Captain. Then he'd taken his pants down for God only knows what reason.  
  
Why? Why hadn't he and Archie just left the room and pretended to be elsewhere? Because Sawyer would have woken to blame them anyway, just as he had in the history books. James still couldn't figure out what the entire ordeal with the trousers had to do with it, though.  
  
Until, that is, he thought again about Lowe. Harold was intelligent, but that act hadn't had anything to do with him using his mind. It was an act of desperation, brought on by the knowledge that he and Archie could and would hang for attacking the Captain. How else to draw attention from the fact that Sawyer was laying on the ground unconscious besides putting him in such a shocking and compromising position that it would leave everyone reeling?  
  
Moody couldn't help but grin to himself. He highly doubted that Lowe would have thought out the ramifications in quite so much detail, but as Jimmy did, he could see where it was bordering a mad sort of brilliance. Sawyer was literally caught with his trousers down, and the senior officers and surgeon had to have seen it. Even were he to wake up and scream that Hornblower had been the one to do it, no one would likely believe him. Why? Horatio wasn't capable of that sort of act. He just wasn't... anyone who put him on a stand would see that immediately, and Sawyer would have been deemed even more senile than he already was. In essence, it was like an actor known for comedies switching abruptly to a tragedy, sweeping the stage, then returning to the comedies without ever having blinked. Unless someone saw it for themselves, they wouldn't believe it.  
  
So now they were heading back to port, undoubtedly to tell the admiralty what had happened. Sawyer was a hero... they would want to keep it quiet, so it wasn't likely they would even hold an inquiry. They would probably try to remedy the situation as fast as they could -- send Sawyer home to his wife and children, with all honors he had coming and with the excuse he had suffered some wound or another in battle, give the _Renown_ to the next Captain or Commander in line, and send everyone back out as quickly as possible.  
  
"Harold, you're either a stupid bastard or a lucky one," James said, softly, smirking and wishing he could tell that to Lowe face to face. "We'll have to wait for it all to play out and find out which."  
  
  
  
Moving up on to deck, Horatio tried his best not to squint in the darkness, and spotting the officer of the watch, he made his way over. Saluting crisply and somewhat sad about returning to his old uniform, he did his best to smile. Noting the quite alert Bush touching his own hat in reply, Hornblower smiled. "Sir, my compliments, and I regret to inform you that Mr. Kennedy has fallen ill and will doubtfully be able to perform his duties. If I may, sir, I'd like to take his watch for him."  
  
Bush looked at the Third Lieutenant, one eyebrow going up unconsciously in confusion. Hornblower had just been dead on his feet, and now here he was, bright and wide-awake. Not only that, but he was speaking differently again, and Kennedy had been fine a moment ago. William's brow then creased in confusion, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's going on, Mr. Hornblower?"  
  
"Just a small bout of fits, sir." Mentally wincing for having to lie and use such an excuse, Horatio continued on. "He'll be fine, I'm sure. I think he just needs some rest, sir."  
  
William tried to believe that, but he didn't. Still, it wouldn't do him any good to claim that something was amiss without more evidence. "Should I send Clive to look in on him?"  
  
The Third Lieutenant thought for sure that Bush knew he was lying. Damn, if only he were a better actor then no one would suspect a thing. "No, no, sir. I believe rest is what is needed for Mr. Kennedy at the moment. Disturbing him in his sleep might prove to extend his recovery."  
  
"Would it?" Bush murmured, looking the junior officer in the face for a long moment. "I'm amazed at how quickly you recovered from your own bout of exhaustion."  
  
"Seeing my best friend in such a state tends to be quite unnerving, and certainly something that would wake me quickly, I assure you, sir."  
  
"I see." William frowned, feeling a stab of guilt. He hadn't intended to be harsh, but there was something very odd about Horatio's manner between when he had all but staggered below and how he was acting now. "Well, offer my best wishes, if you'd be so kind."  
  
Nodding and touching his hat, Horatio did his best to smile and soften any worries in the Second Lieutenant's mind. "I would be happy to, sir. I'm sure he will be glad to know that you offered them."  
  
Bush nodded, going back to the railing and his watch without another word. As much as he would have liked to have been concentrating on his job, though, he felt as though something was desperately not right. With any luck, it would be better after they got back into port and went through all of the troubles dealing with Sawyer.  
  
With a somewhat long, but quiet sigh of relief, Hornblower made his way back below in an attempt to get some sleep before heading up on deck again for a double shift. Taking off his hat, he rubbed his brow and made his way down the hallway to the officer cabins. Knocking on Jimmy's door quietly, he looked around before opening the door and slipping inside. "Mr. Bush knows that Archie's sick now, so all you'll have to do is stay here. I'll be sure to bring you your meals and maybe a book to keep you busy."  
  
James nodded, now that he was over the brief panic attack brought on by the knock. "Let's hope Mr. Kennedy's not absent for too terribly long."  
  
"Agreed. For now, however, I fear I must retire. If you need anything, I'll be just across the hall." Grinning slightly, Hornblower lightly tucked his hat under his arm and glanced around the cabin. "I just hope you can find some way to keep yourself busy, Jimmy. This place isn't exactly like the _Titanic_. No worried passengers, no gourmet food, and no bad coffee."  
  
"I can live happily without the first and the last, Horatio, and survive fine without the middle." Moody smirked slightly, unable to resist teasing, "Or should I call you Horry?"  
  
"You shouldn't." Wincing slightly, Horatio gave the Sixth Officer a jokingly scolding look before nodding to him and moving back out of the room.  
  
"Wait until you're married," Jimmy snickered under his breath, once the Third Lieutenant was gone. There were some wicked advantages to knowing Hornblower's life story before Hornblower himself did, though he could never be certain if it would remain the same, or if the tampering had changed the course. Nevermind, though. For now, Moody would have to make due with being trapped below decks for an indeterminate amount of time, with nothing to really do. Shaking his head to himself, he picked one of Archie's books up gently and started reading.  
  



	14. Part XIII Dangling from Infinity: The ...

**Part XIII - Dangling from Infinity: The Misdirection of Ceasar Williams!**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
Harold reappeared on the _Titanic_ at the same time that Horatio appeared in his cabin on the _Renown_. It wasn't very fortunate for the Fifth Officer to be asleep when this switch around was made, for he was on the port side Officer's Promenade, and landing on the teak decking with a heavy thud was not the most pleasant way to wake up. Blinking a few times to ward off the shot of pain from the landing, along with the exhaustion, he quickly got to his feet. Immediately he knew where he was, and immediately he realized that he had better get into--  
  
"Mr. Lowe?"  
  
Damn. Harry turned in his tracks, trying to look perfectly alert, and regarded his Chief Officer. "Sir?"  
  
Wilde took one look at the uniform and groaned, "Not again..." It was bad enough the night before, but to have this happen two nights in a row was just completely ridiculous. Shaking his head, the Chief rubbed his eyes. "All right, explain."  
  
"Explain what, Chief?" Lowe asked, feigning innocence as well as he could.  
  
"The uniform!" Henry cried, exasperated and frustrated far more than he normally was.  
  
"Well, sir," Harold started, surprised by the normally cool and levelheaded senior officer's dismay, "I just happened to... well, I'm preparing for a play, and..."  
  
"No," Wilde said, firmly, shaking his head avidly. "The real reason, please."  
  
"The voices made me do it...? I don't know, sir, it might have been The--"  
  
"Don't you dare say The Coffee," Henry growled, very much at the end of his rope. Transferred from the _Olympic_ under duress, came into this assignment late, hasn't slept well since boarding, still has an eerie feeling about _Titanic_, and now... now he's facing the thought that his sanity might not be exactly as intact as he had always assumed it to be. Taking a deep breath, Wilde let it out slowly, commanding, "Stay right here. Don't even twitch."  
  
"Aye, sir," Harold answered, frowning. He was in trouble now -- he couldn't disobey Wilde, but if he wasn't in his own uniform, who knows what could happen.  
  
At that point, poor Henry didn't care. He walked back into the Officers Quarters resolutely, knocking on Murdoch's door hard enough to wake the Scot without much delay.  
  
Will, shaken awake by the knock, blinked in the darkness in his room and switched his light on. "Yes? What is it?"  
  
"Will, I need you on the Bridge," Henry said, through the door, and not caring one way or another who else he woke up. The more witnesses the better.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Frowning, Murdoch pulled himself out of bed and immediately began getting dressed.  
  
"Oh, besides me losing my bloody mind?" Wilde muttered to himself, not really loud enough to be heard. A little louder, he answered, "That's debatable."  
  
A minute or two later, Will stepped out of his room, though his uniform wasn't exactly in prime condition due to the quick moment he stole to put it on. Just a door down, Lightoller stepped out of his cabin in just his trousers and an untucked white shirt. "Is there something the matter?" He asked, quietly.  
  
"Lowe again," Wilde answered, walking back through the chartroom and out onto the Bridge, not looking back to see if anyone was following or not. Sure enough, Harold was right where he had left him, though he had moved. It was of no concern, though... he was still dressed to early 19th century standards.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Murdoch looked over the Fifth Officer and walked around him once. "No extra hair tonight, Mr. Lowe?"  
  
"No, sir," Harry answered, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Apparently Horatio had appeared in the same way, and he could suddenly appreciate why Wilde seemed so damned unsettled by the garb.  
  
"Care to explain the uniform then, Mr. Lowe? I thought for sure, judging by the log, that you had been warned about it," Lightoller commented, somewhat lightly.  
  
"Well," Lowe tried to explain, flustered, "I'm afraid I didn't turn my light on when I dressed for watch, sir, and must have grabbed the wrong one."  
  
"Terribly neat for dressing in the dark," Henry nearly snapped, but managed just barely to keep that edge from his voice.  
  
"Well-practiced?" Harold asked, lamely. He was in way over his head, now, and he prayed quickly in the back of his mind for some sort of salvation before this got too far out of hand.  
  
Murdoch shook his head at the excuse. "What's your fascination with this uniform of yours, Mr. Lowe? If I didn't know better, I'd think that you were dressing up for the passengers and performing for them." The First Officer couldn't help but laugh.  
  
Just inside the Bridge, having been awakened by Henry's somewhat boisterous knock, Archie stood, peeking just beyond the edge of the Bridge in an attempt to see what was happening. He had been quiet getting there, and was amazed how the quartermaster paid him no mind.  
  
"Well, I tried to tell Mr. Wilde that I was practicing for a play..." Harold said, aiming for cheerful and lighthearted, and cringing slightly under the annoyed glare the Chief gave him.  
  
Lightoller rubbed his eyes, thinking he would have much rather been sleeping in his own warm bed than standing on deck, quibbling with a junior. "And what role would you be playing?"  
  
"Why, Horatio Hornblower, sir," Harold answered, as naturally as he could. It was the first thought that came to his mind, and he hoped it would work. "Before he became an admiral."  
  
Letting out a bit of a chuckle, Kennedy had to bite his tongue not to continue, and wincing slightly, he quietly tried to tiptoe back towards the small room he had woken up in.  
  
Harold bit his lip, hoping that no one noticed that, without much actual hope. Wilde, however, did notice -- there wasn't much that passed him by, and he scowled at the snicker, walking onto the Bridge and eyeing Kennedy's shadowy and retreating figure. "Stop. Now."  
  
Catching himself in midstep, Archie winced and put his foot down, not turning. Taking a deep breath, he was sure that he could almost feel the tightening of the noose around his neck.  
  
"Out here," Henry commanded, trying for everything he was worth to see who it was. It sure wasn't Moody or Boxhall... both of them were taller, and it wasn't Pitman, who was thinner.  
  
Slowly turning at the short, clipped commands, the young Fourth Lieutenant swallowed and seemingly did his best to shrink down to nothing in front of the large Chief. Henry, however, seeing the uniform, seemed to go visibly pale at the near perfect copy of Harold's. Simply pointing in the direction that the other officers were, he knotted his jaw and waited until Archie shuffled past and out onto the deck.  
  
Shooting Lowe an apologetic glance, Kennedy then moved to stand beside him as Henry returned to his own place next to Will and Charles. "Who _are_ you?" he asked, exasperated.  
  
Grinning brightly, and putting on all the charm he could muster, Archie replied, "My name is Caesar Williams, sir. Lieutenant Archie Kennedy in the same play that Mr. Lowe here is acting in."  
  
Trying his best not to strangle both men, Henry just closed his eyes and let the other two officers question the men. "Is that so, Mr. Williams?" Murdoch asked, raising an eyebrow at the younger man.  
  
"Quite," was the pert answer.  
  
Lowe, upon hearing Archie's replies, wasn't sure if he wanted to smile or just throw himself over the side of the ship. Would the seniors really believe such things, or would they both be sitting in the Master-at-Arms office for the rest of the trip?  
  
Lightoller couldn't help but smirk at the whole situation. "What an unfortunate thing for you, sir."  
  
Nearly puffing up his chest in defense of himself, Kennedy set his jaw, but then let the moment fade, and smiled once again. "Not so, sir. In fact, Mr. Kennedy is quite a character to play, and certainly doing so has brought the women running." Sure, he was ringing his own bells, but it was for his and Harry's sake, right?  
  
Trying not to groan, the Fifth Officer had to bite back the urge to elbow "Caesar" in the ribs. If there were any graves at sea, Harry was sure that Archie would have dug both of theirs in an instant, but he also thought that perhaps the plan might have worked. Afterall, what story is still hard to accept with another witness close by?  
  
"Let me get this straight," Henry said, leaning on the railing with his eyes still closed and his head tilted back. "You two are in a play about Hornblower, so you prance around in these 19th century uniforms in the wee hours of the morning to prepare for the part?"  
  
"Basically, sir," Lowe answered, smiling as well as he could, given the circumstances.  
  
"Mr. Lightoller, would you be so kind as to get the passenger manifest?" Wilde asked, the very picture of polite, as he looked over at Lights finally.  
  
Charles managed not to groan at the assignment, because he was tired enough that he was willing to accept the explanation without a thought, but even as he thought of that warm bed, he had to admit to curiosity. Nodding, he looked back at Wilde, "Right away, sir."  
  
"Thank you." Henry closed his eyes again. This seemed to be getting more and more insane by the minute... certainly not a situation for a man who's main strengths were not metaphysical, but practical.  
  
Harold fought the urge to wince as Lightoller strolled onto the Bridge, and presumably back to the chartroom, where a copy of the passenger list was kept. He sincerely hoped that there would be a Caesar Williams, though he doubted it, or that Archie would be able to work around it. The younger man seemed to be doing good so far, and Lowe allowed himself a small smile at that -- clever little bugger, he was. He just hoped he would be clever enough.  
  
As Lightoller stepped back out onto the deck with the list, Archie shifted somewhat uncomfortably. Damn him for not picking a more common name. The Second Officer began flipping through the pages, slowly. "No..." He paused a moment. "No, and no."  
  
"Well, Mr. Williams, it seems you don't exist." Murdoch smiled at the younger man.  
  
"Care to try again?" Wilde asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Laughing lightly, Kennedy did his best to remain nonchalant. "Well, no, you wouldn't find that one, would you? No, I believe the ticket was signed by my lady back home under the name of C. McMann."  
  
Once again, Lights went through the list, checking all classes and all possible spellings before looking up. "No."  
  
"John Smith?" Archie tried. He couldn't go wrong with that one... he just couldn't.  
  
Lowe fought down a grin. Well, at least that was a common enough name that it might be on the passenger manifest.  
  
Sure enough, Lightoller looked back up with a pleasant smile. "Well, we do have a J. Smyth in third class..."  
  
"Well, there you go, sir," Kennedy said, feeling the amazing sense of relief. That is, until Lightoller's next words sounded, and then that feeling rapidly vanished.  
  
"A Miss Julia Smyth."  
  
"What? Can't a woman play a man's part...?" Kennedy visibly winced.  
  
Henry laughed, weakly, completely and utterly distraught by the entire affair so far. He was a patient man, a quiet man, but this was starting to grate on his last nerve. Taking a deep breath, he very calmly took Archie by the collar and dragged him to the railing, holding the younger man hard enough to keep him from escaping, but not hard enough to hurt him. Dropping his voice to a near whisper, he ignored the worried looks he received from Charles and Will, "All right. Now, before I completely lose my patience, you're going to tell me who you are."  
  
"Er, Henry..." Will started, but was silenced by a quick and very sharp look from the superior. He frowned, staying back with Lights, and took Lowe by the arm when he made to go to Kennedy's assistance. "Stay were you are, Mr. Lowe."  
  
"But--!"  
  
"Stay," Charles commanded, in a no-nonsense voice, ready to intervene.  
  
Putting his hands on the rail and gripping it tightly, Archie swallowed. "S-sir, I don't think this is w-wise..."  
  
"Your name." Wilde said, still quite calm -- he was an old school sailor, from the days of harder discipline.  
  
Looking down at the water nervously, Kennedy nodded and tried to lean back some. "Archie Kennedy, sir, Archie Kennedy for God's sake!"  
  
"You look well for a man over a hundred who happens to be dead."  
  
Will and Charles exchanged a glance, both of them coming to the same conclusion. Whoever this was, he wasn't right in the head.  
  
Wilde's jaw knotted momentarily before he finally let Kennedy loose from where he had been staring down at the churning swells of the Atlantic. "This is rapidly getting old."  
  
"He is Archie Kennedy, sir," Lowe finally broke in, a bit pale from the exchange and hoping to actually convince them of the truth now that all chances for a story had been blown out of the water.  
  
Murdoch looked over at the Fifth Officer with a sigh, "Not you too, Mr. Lowe. Come now, gentlemen, the truth."  
  
"It _is_ the truth," Kennedy proclaimed, not thrilled with the fact that he was so close to death. Visibly shaking from either cold or subsiding fear, he looked at the three seniors. "I'm Archie Kennedy, Fourth Lieutenant of the _H.M.S. Renown_ under the command of Captain James Sawyer. If you don't believe me, I can show you my commission at this moment."  
  
"By all means," Lights said, taking some pity on the boy. Insane or not, being threatened even obscurely with an impromptu swim had to have been terrifying.  
  
Digging into his inside pocket, Archie first pulled out two small books, then a pen, and finally a metal box that looked much like a cigarette case; small and thin. Opening up the metal container, he took out a folded piece of paper and offered in to Murdoch, who happened to be standing closest to him.  
  
Taking the paper and feeling almost like the impartial third party, Will then passed it to Wilde. "Why don't you have a look, Henry?"  
  
Henry took the paper, squinting in the low lighting of a slowly approaching dawn. Without a word, he read it and passed it to Lightoller.  
  
Carefully retrieving the certificate and looking at it in the same fashion, Charles raised an eyebrow and leaned towards Will to show him, whispering, "Looks genuine, but..."  
  
"How can we be completely sure?" Looking over at Wilde with somewhat of a questioning look, Murdoch then took the yellowed paper into his own hands, gently.  
  
"We can't be. It could be a nice reproduction, or it could have been the real Mr. Kennedy's commission and somehow gotten by this chap." Wilde shook his head. "All right, gentlemen, let's imagine for a moment that you're telling the truth. How exactly did all of this happen?"  
  
Lowe took the opportunity to speak up, perhaps to draw their attention away from Archie for a moment or two. "Well, it's rather hard to explain, sirs..."  
  
"Try, Mr. Lowe," Charles sighed.  
  
A deep breath later, Harry tried to make sense of the entire thing, so that it might make sense to the senior officers. "Two days ago, Mr. Moody and myself somehow appeared in Liverpool, in the past, we think. Well, I think it was two days ago... morning of the eleventh."  
  
"This is the morning of the twelfth," Wilde supplied, helpfully but certainly with a bit of an edge on his voice.  
  
"In that case, for you it was a day ago, for myself and Mr. Moody, it was a few days ago."  
  
"I'm confused," Will said, looking indeed very confused and baffled.  
  
"What he's trying to say," Kennedy broke in, "is that himself and Mr. Moody found themselves on shore when they should have been here on _Titanic_. The same happened to myself and Mr. Hornblower--"  
  
Smirking in his usual jovial sense, Murdoch offered the commission back as he interrupted. "_The_ Horatio Hornblower, eh? Does he look as well as you do after a hundred years?"  
  
Carefully taking the paper back as if it were priceless (and in truth, it was), Archie began to fold it back into its neat little form. "Sir, you see, it isn't 1912 from where I come from. It was 1801 and we were only a few days out from port on our way to some place that the Admiralty saw fit to send us. Which, judging from what James told me," he paused, "Mr. Moody, that is, but from what I could gather from him, the ship was heading for Santo Domingo."  
  
"How unfortunate for you, then, Mr. Kennedy," Lights chimed in, having a hard time believing that there was anything more than a well-versed and well-read actor standing in front of him.  
  
Archie seemed to pale slightly when thinking about the moment he had learned of his death, and he nodded, replacing his prized objects back into his pocket. "Yes, sir, trust in me that it is with great fear that I concede to that thought."  
  
It was the paling that first touched on Lightoller's mind and worked it's way into the back to brew. As insane as this entire charade sounded, for a moment he actually did think that there was the possibility... that this could well be Archie Kennedy, and that Horatio Hornblower himself had been there previous. Immediately, he pushed the notion away; it didn't, however, leave his mind.  
  
Murdoch raised an eyebrow, glancing to Lightoller before once again considering the two wayward travelers. "You two really want us to believe this?"   
  
Harold and Archie nodded in perfect unison, and the older of the two ventured to add, "I know it's a stretch..."  
  
"Putting it mildly," Wilde commented, in a low mutter.  
  
"People don't just appear years and years after they've died," Will added, gently.  
  
"Well, no, of course they don't," Harold said, drawing himself up with squared shoulders. "But then, normally people don't likewise end up traveling backwards in time, then forwards, then backwards again, then forwards to now, to try to explain something they don't understand to people who likely wouldn't believe them anyway."  
  
Lightoller frowned, leaning back on the railing. "I think you've lost us."  
  
Kennedy couldn't help but smirk. "I think you've nearly lost me now," he commented, than paced a bit. "There must be some way we can convince you beyond a doubt..."  
  
Murdoch thought a moment, trying to contemplate how he could resolve this situation, and was just about to say something when Henry beat him to it. The senior most officer tapped on the railing a moment, absently. "All right. I know that somewhere on this ship there has to be a copy of Hornblower's memoirs..."  
  
"I have one at home, but..." Lights shrugged. "I doubt I brought it with me."  
  
Archie nodded and stood against the rail, crossing his arms. "Fine, yes... test me."  
  
Will smiled, not too far from his usual charming look. "We intend to, if Mr. Lightoller would be so good as to look for the book. If he doesn't have it, then I fear we may have to arrest you."  
  
Charles looked between the troop of them, then nodded and walked off for his cabin. He usually took a few books with him on any voyage, simply to read when he was sitting with his pipe, and he did hope he had this one. Honestly, he was finding himself wanting to believe the lads on deck, though he still tried to reason that there was no way this could be.  
  
Lowe watched him walk off, nodding slightly to himself and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Once this was resolved, he could certainly use a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.  
  
Kennedy moved over next to Lowe, back turned to the others, and whispered lightly to his companion, "What if he doesn't have the book?"  
  
The Welshman looked past Archie for a moment, at Murdoch and Wilde, who were in the midst of their own quiet discussion. Uncertainty crossed his face as he looked back at Kennedy. "I'm not sure. Play it by ear, I suppose, and maybe it'll all turn out right." A nod was the only response given as the younger man waited nervously, and Harold shook his head, tone low and somewhat reassuring, "It'll be all right. One way or another."  
  
"I'm sure it will be. They can't kill me, afterall."  
  
Of course, any further discussion was forestalled by Charles Lightoller, stepping out with a very shocked look on his face as he looked Lowe over, then at the book in hand. He must have grabbed it, and though it never even crossed his mind before, the portrait of Horatio on the cover was shockingly similar to the Fifth Officer. A little older, maybe... Hornblower was a Captain when it was painted, but aside from the age and the fact that it was an engraved print, there was no mistaking the resemblance.  
  
Raising both eyebrows, Kennedy watched the Second Officer's reaction before looking between all of the seniors.  
  
"How...?" Lights asked, which was about all he could manage.  
  
Wilde moved over, looking at the book. A moment passed while his tired mind processed this, and he glanced between Lowe and the cover before shaking his head. 'That's... uncanny."  
  
Will moved to the other side of Lightoller, looking over the cover then looking up at Harold. "More than uncanny, I'd say..."  
  
"Downright unnerving?" Harry offered, smiling sweetly and perhaps a bit irritably. "Try being me, and coming face to face with him."  
  
Charles shook his head again, flipping through the book for a side profile portrait, and after a moment or two walked around Lowe, eyeing first him, then the book. That ponytail of Hornblower's certainly came to mind then, as he thought about the day before, and all he could say then was, "Well."  
  
The thought donned on the First Officer not a moment later and he gestured the other seniors away from Harold and Archie. As they stepped over to him, he crossed his arms. "Are either of you feeling just a bit worried?"  
  
A trace of a smile crossed Henry's face as he replied, wryly, "Worried? Will, your talent for understatement never ceases to amaze me."  
  
"What if it is...?" Lights almost spoke over the Chief, unable to even keep that thought quiet. He had seen some sights in his time, but this was something completely new.  
  
"If it is," Will joked, "then I have a feeling we'll all be in deep trouble if someone finds out we just made Admiral Hornblower cut his hair."  
  
This pulled a laugh from Wilde. "If it's true, I think we've got bigger things to worry about than a tail."  
  
Lightoller looked at the book. There weren't any pictures of Archie Kennedy, but Hornblower had given a brief description, and it was on the letter. Frowning slightly at the dilemma, he looked back at the other two. "So what do we do?"  
  
"I suggest we ask him the questions," Will offered, turning to the other two.  
  
Nodding resolutely, Lights looked at Archie. "All right... we can't deny there's something odd going on, but it still doesn't necessarily mean that this story's accurate. So--"  
  
Lowe took the book, suddenly getting an odd thought... he ignored the glare he got from all three seniors, thumbing through the pages as he muttered aside to Archie, "Do you think that there might be some mention of this in here?"  
  
"It's possible. Do you think he would mention something like that and jeopardize his sanity in the eyes of others, though?" The younger man skimmed the pages, quickly, looking for some trace of the situation.  
  
"Not him, no... but some obscure reference, maybe. Some mention, perhaps, or something of the sort."  
  
"What are you doing?" Lightoller asked, getting towards the end of his rope now himself.  
  
"Looking for something," Lowe replied, offhand, going back to the index to search. Damn hard with so little light, but he had sharp eyes.  
  
Kennedy sighed, frustrated, and looked up, "He would have to write his life story, word for word, wouldn't he?"  
  
"Long winded bastard," Harry agreed, darkly. Finally he went back to the cover and was just about to give up and return the book when something crossed his eye. There, on the inside front cover, were his acknowledgments... and there, in that tiny print, nestled among thank you's to his friends and family were the names. Archie Kennedy, Lt., Harold Lowe, Lt. RNR, James Moody, Lt. RNR. "That's it!"  
  
Grinning, Kennedy took the book and offered it to Wilde, satisfied as he pointed at their names among the full page of names. "See that?"  
  
"Good God..." was all Wilde cared to offer, as he took the book from Archie, stepping back a pace or two and looking at them, then the other two seniors. More than a touch shocked, he handed the book to Will, then retreated to the railing to look over the ocean and try to come to some understanding of this.  
  
Clearing his throat, Murdoch offered the book back to Charles. "Gentleman, I think that I might retire now... in lieu that this might be some odd dream."  
  
Lightoller took the book, shaking his head as he read the names. Well, there was no disputing that, and no way that they could have somehow added those names to that book... it had been in print for decades, and his copy was half as old as he was. "I... good idea, Mr. Murdoch."  
  
"So," Henry said, slowly and deliberately, "where's Mr. Moody?"  
  
"With Mr. Hornblower," Kennedy answered, grinning. "In 1801."  
  
Taking a deep breath, the senior looked at Archie for the first time with some sort of kindness, smiling a wry half-smile. "All right, lads. I don't have a damn clue what's going on, but we're short a Sixth Officer until he returns... God willing, that'll be soon."  
  
"I'd be happy to take over his position until then," Archie offered, relaxing when the much larger man finally did.  
  
Lowe likewise relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. "We could find him a uniform, sir... and I'll stick with him until he's settled in, or until Mr. Moody returns."  
  
"You do that. Mr. Lightoller, see about the uniform, if you could." Wilde ordered, basically accepting this for now. Maybe later he'd worry, but right now duty called. And, of course, he hoped in the back of his mind he would find it was all an odd dream.  
  
"Aye, sir." Lights nodded, putting aside the idea of bed. He wasn't too far off from his watch anyway.  
  
Satisfied, Will nodded and moved off towards his quarters, while Archie looked to Lowe. "Aren't we lucky he remembered us?"  
  
"Definitely," Harry answered, with an avid nod. He resolved himself that he had yet another watch without sleep, and looked at Wilde as Lightoller headed off to scrounge up a uniform that might fit.  
  
Henry took another deep breath. "Mr. Kennedy, you're on watch. Mr. Lowe, go get some sleep, you look like the dead...he can stay with me until you're back on, and then you can worry about the tour."  
  
"I..." Harold started, not wanting to leave Archie in that situation.  
  
"Go on," Kennedy assured, "I'll be all right."  
  
Too worn out to really put up much of an argument in comparison to normal, Lowe offered an informal salute. "Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Wilde."  
  
"Good night," Wilde answered, moving back onto the Bridge. It was going to be a _long_ day.  
  



	15. Part XIV Bushwhacked

**Part XIV - Bushwhacked**  
  
- -------- -  
  
When he turned over the watch to Buckland, William Bush had fully intended to go to bed and lay down for an hour or two in an attempt to forget about all of the troubles onboard ship at that time. That was his plan and focus, throughout the watch. He gave his reports to the senior lieutenant, informing him of Mr. Kennedy's sudden illness, and then went below.  
  
He had intended to go to bed. But, caught in a moment of kindheartedness, he instead stopped off at the Fourth Lieutenant's cabin, intending to check on him. Cracking the door slightly and sticking his head in, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't what he saw.  
  
Sleeping peacefully in the chair, his feet up on the sea chest, the fair-haired lad in Kennedy's room most certainly wasn't Kennedy. Built a little bit slimmer, and much taller, the fellow wasn't very old. He had light brown hair, a very fair face, boyish features, and he was dressed in what looked to be some sort of nightclothes.  
  
For a moment, William didn't know what to do. The first thought was that this was some sort of stowaway, someone who didn't belong, and to raise the alarm. But the sleeping man looked anything but threatening. Frowning a moment, Bush stepped inside the whole way, closing the door behind him, and reached over, prodding the gent in the shoulder.  
  
James woke at that, blinking sleepily. He hadn't really meant to doze off, but Shakespeare had apparently influenced him more than he had intended, and before he knew it, he was dreaming. So, when he was awoken by that prod, he didn't immediately know where he was, who was there, or what danger he was in until he looked at the confused older lieutenant and it came flooding back. "Wha...?"  
  
"I think I should be asking that," Bush said, sternly, though he kept his voice down. "Who are you?"  
  
Unable to think of even a halfway plausible story, Jimmy decided it was wiser this time to stick with the truth. "James Moody, sir," he answered, quietly, standing.  
  
"And where's Mr. Kennedy?" Bush looked over the man, maybe a little unnerved that he had to look up at him. Tall fellow, really, but still there wasn't any aura of anything dangerous about him.  
  
"I couldn't honestly say I know for certain," Moody said, self-consciously, wishing in the back of his mind that Horatio would come to his rescue. But that didn't seem too certain at this point, and he tried to think of a way around this.  
  
"Couldn't honestly say?" William's eyebrows went up. "You're in his cabin, but you couldn't say?"  
  
"No, sir," came the mumbled reply.  
  
"Let's try this again... where are you from?"  
  
"Grimbsy, sir."  
  
"And how did you get here?"  
  
James frowned slightly, looking at his feet. "To be perfectly honest with you, sir, I haven't quite figured that out yet."  
  
William sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. The entire day before and then the night had been taxing to say the least, and he was mentally worn out and getting exasperated by all of this. First Hornblower was acting odd as Hell, then he was acting somewhat normally again and now Kennedy was missing and this pup was in his place. Add in that the Captain had been found with his trousers around his ankles, and that they were now headed back into port... suffice it to say, it wasn't the Second Lieutenant's night. "You're making this difficult."  
  
"Sorry, sir... if I could understand it myself, I would be more than glad to try to explain it," Jimmy offered, still looking at the floor.  
  
"Sit down, and tell me this from the beginning," Bush commanded, eyes still closed. There had to be some odd and ridiculous story, because so far there had been many odd and ridiculous things that had happened already.  
  
Moody sat back down obediently, folding his hands on his lap. "I... sir, it's a very strange story."  
  
"I gathered that much," the older man almost snapped, but managed just barely not to. "Tell it anyway, before I decide that I've gone insane and need locked away."  
  
"Yes, sir," James said, quietly, then took a deep breath. He didn't know where to begin or how to make sense of it, but maybe the other man wouldn't just up and have him hanged. "A... well, a few days ago, myself and a shipmate of mine basically vanished from our posting and ended up in Liverpool, with Mr. Hornblower and Mr. Kennedy."  
  
"Vanished...?" Yes, this was going to be a ridiculous fish tale indeed. "Go on."  
  
"Vanished. And when we got where we did, we noticed that Mr. Lowe and Mr. Hornblower were practically identical, and that they were from now... 1801, and we're from 1912."  
  
William gave him an incredulous look. Did he really expect him to buy that? That he was from the future, him and this Lowe fellow? But the look on the younger man's face was sincere, and even a little bit anxious... he was a talented liar or an insane fellow, this Moody. "1912. The future."  
  
"Yes, sir... your future." Moody cringed under the look, squirming under the scrutiny. He knew how crazy it sounded, but it was too late to take the words back now. "We all went to an inne, to try and figure out how or why it happened, and since I... since I had..." He tried to think of how to explain about the memoirs, but it wasn't easy. "Since I had some knowledge of history, I spoke with Ar-- Mr. Kennedy about his future in hopes to make it..." finishing rather lamely, he said, "...right."  
  
By now, Bush was well beyond speaking. He was trying to make some sense of this odd tale, and it wasn't happening.  
  
Noticing the look, James continued on, hoping to get the story out before he was keelhauled or something else for being a spy. "We spent some time together, the four of us, and then Mr. Hornblower and myself ended up on my ship... the _Titanic_. Mr. Lowe and Mr. Kennedy must have been back here. I can't say I know what all happened when they were, but when you were probably talking to Mr. Hornblower, it was actually Harold, not Horatio."  
  
Oddly enough, that did seem to make some sense. Horatio didn't have short hair, a quick temper, or a Welsh accent. Playing back over their encounters in his mind, William frowned deeper. It still could be an act, but that part of the tale did fit, and it made sense to him as an explanation for Hornblower's general demeanor throughout the day.  
  
Noting the expression, Jimmy plowed into the next part of the story, "Somehow or some way, Mr. Lowe and Mr. Kennedy must have been transferred to 1912, and Mr. Hornblower and myself back here. Thankfully, Mr. Kennedy noted some things that happened in his journal, or we might have been in more trouble than current, but as it stands now..." he let his voice trail off, having no idea of how he could possible continue with the odd tale, or make it any more sensible. To be honest, it wouldn't make much sense to him if he were listening, and he didn't expect the senior lieutenant to buy any of it.  
  
William sighed, softly. Silence fell like a cloud over the room as a minute passed, then two. Really, neither of them knew what to say... what could one say to something like that? Bush did know that he wasn't going to just believe this story, but he likewise knew how to read people. And Moody wasn't lying -- he was sincere. And what would the senior officer say when he went above decks to Buckland? Would he try to relay the story and risk being looked at like he was a fool, or would he say that Moody was a stowaway, and that Kennedy was a deserter? When the silence became too uncomfortable, he finally asked, "Hornblower's in on this as well?"  
  
"Not in on it so much as having no choice..." James murmured, not entirely certain if he should be relieved at the break in silence, or fear what would come next. Moody was not a coward, but even he had no wish to meet his end on a ship out of time, far away from his kin and kind.  
  
Bush stood after a moment, speaking somewhat quietly, "Stay here," and then he stepped out and across the hall, knocking on Horatio's cabin door.  
  
  
Sitting idly on his bunk, Horatio quietly worried about what was going to become of the four men until there was a knock on his door. Looking up from the spot that had been so interesting to stare at a moment before, he cleared his throat. "Come in."  
  
William stepped in, a frown still wearing lines into his face and making him look older than he actually was. Leaving the door ajar only slightly, he looked at the young lieutenant he'd grown to admire somewhat even in the few days since they had met, halfway hoping that this would all turn out to be a prank, or some other arcane initiation. "Mr. Hornblower. I was wondering if Mr. Kennedy was prone to drastically changing his appearance as well as having fits."   
  
Hornblower hadn't been expecting the question, so when Bush had asked it, the younger man was left blinking at the idea before stammering into words, "I, uh... well, sir... You see, um..."  
  
The stammering was already making Bush feel his stomach knot, knowing somehow that this was only going to get harder instead of being explained away. "All right, get up."   
  
Damning himself mentally, the Third Lieutenant stood up as quick as he possibly could without letting himself topple over, swallowing a little harder than normal.  
  
William gave a sharp nod, then stepped out and back across to where James was pacing the two or three steps that he could manage across Archie's room. Moody looked up when he stepped back in, then looked past him to Horatio with apology in his eyes.  
  
Hornblower couldn't help but give the Sixth Officer an understanding nod, taking a deep breath and waiting to hear what Bush would have to say about the whole situation.  
  
"You know him, obviously," Bush stated, looking between the two, though he was addressing Hornblower. "How?"  
  
"We met not too long ago on land," Horatio explained, figuring it best to come clean. "Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Lowe, Mr. Moody and myself found ourselves all on land when we weren't supposed to be, but the thought quickly faded away when we realized that Mr. Lowe and myself were near twins."   
  
Bush shook his head, leaning on the wall and rubbing at his eyes yet again. They were stinging, thanks to his want for sleep, and the last thing he wanted to do before he went to bed was to forget this ever happened. "I've heard this story. I still can't quite believe it."  
  
"If it helps, sir," Moody put in, thoughtfully, "I believe Mr. Kennedy will be back soon and then you won't have to worry about it."  
  
"How do I know he hasn't deserted? And that you aren't a stowaway?"  
  
"You don't, sir," Horatio said, softly, not liking in the least the upset the senior lieutenant was facing, nor the fact that he couldn't do a thing about it. It made him sick at heart to imagine James hanged for a crime he didn't commit, and Archie condemned as a deserter, all because of some strange twist of reality. "I can guarantee you, however, that you could search this ship from stem to stern, and you won't find Mr. Kennedy. I can likewise guarantee that he'll be back sometime soon."  
  
James nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure himself if that much was true. Still, it honestly couldn't worsen their situation any if it turned out not to be, and he noticed the tired, frustrated resignation that crossed William's face. Naturally a kindhearted fellow, he added in offering, "It _will_ be all right, sir. Somehow."  
  
"I'm going to bed," William said, carefully. "I hope that this sorts itself out tomorrow, for all of our sakes and sanities."  
  
"There'll be no need to worry in the morning, Mr. Bush," Horatio assured once again, gently ushering the higher ranked lieutenant out the door.  
  
Perhaps it was mental fatigue that allowed Hornblower to carefully maneuver Bush from the room, and off towards his own cabin, or maybe it was just a very real desire to cling to that promise and not concern himself more, but William nodded and headed for his own cabin. He didn't dare dwell on this, not for any length of time, and as he closed the door to the small room, he did the best he could to put it from his mind.   
  
After making sure that William was off to his room, Hornblower moved back to Kennedy's cabin, letting out a slight sigh and looking to his companion. "Let us hope this turns out the way we want..."  
  
James nodded, sitting on the hammock and echoing the soft sigh. "Honestly, Horatio, I don't see how it could do us much worse. At least this gives us a little time."  
  
"Yes, you're right... I think Sawyer would have had us dangling from the yard at the earliest opportunity."  
  
Moody smiled slightly, agreeing, "Yes, I believe he would have. But thankfully, Mr. Bush seems to be a good bit more accessible, and with any luck, no one else will come calling on Archie this evening."  
  
Nodding, Horatio moved towards the door, running a hand through his unruly, yet shortened hair. "I think we'll be fine, Mr. Moody."  
  
"I hope so." James did his best to lay back in the hammock and make himself comfortable, though it was too short for him, much like his own bunk. Resolving himself that it would be a long night, at any length, he offered a tired smile to Hornblower. "Try to get some rest, and we can worry about it in the morning."  
  
Offering a smile back, Hornblower then opened the door. "You as well, my good man," and out he stepped, moving to try to salvage a few hours worth of sleep.  
  
James listened to the door close, leaving him to blow out the candle and think in the darkness. He felt trapped, somehow, like there was no escape from an inevitable end. Did it matter whether he was hanged for being a stowaway or spy, or whether he went down with the _Titanic_? In all truth, given the choice he would have rather given his life to save others, in his own time, where those who love him wouldn't wonder forever about his fate. But he didn't seem to have a choice in any of this insanity, nor would he.  
  
For a moment, the young man felt like giving into the urge to break down in tears, not so much from the situation, but from the sheer helplessness of it all. James was by no means a weak-willed fellow; he had taken his share of blows in life and had never given up despite them, but it was almost tormenting to think that all of it could come to an end on either side, no matter his choices.  
  
Swallowing hard in the small, black cabin, Moody called on his own strength of heart. Firmly, he pushed any thoughts of failure aside, not allowing them so much as a purchase on his mind. It Harold and Horatio and Archie were going to fight to the bitter end, then he would be damned if he wouldn't be fighting right there with them.  
  
That reassuring thought was the last to cross his mind before sleep finally caught up with the tired, fair-haired lad from Grimsby.  



	16. Part XV Steak and Ladies

**Part XV - "Steak and Ladies... Er... I Mean, Eggs, Please!"**  
  
- --------- - --  
  
Watch aboard the _Titanic_ was nothing near what it was on the _Renown_, or even the _Indefatigable_. While Kennedy would have been standing idly by on the quarterdeck of the _Renown_, he now walked the length of a gigantic steamer. Of course, one could say he and Harold were the equivalent of midshipmen on the steamer; the junior-most and therefore most put upon. His feet honestly hurt after returning from the quick walk down to the stern and back again -- he couldn't remember the last time that had been the case. Even walking briskly in the near cold morning air had certainly made him wish that he'd invested in new shoes last time he'd been in port.  
  
Staring at his majestic surroundings, though, he couldn't help but grin. Something about the familiarity of the planked decks made him feel near at home, while the prestige of the woodwork did nothing but surprise him. He was so used to living on board a ship that was for nothing more than war; never one used for civilian passage. He had heard of some finery on the merchant ships that had run trade before the war... stories of gilded woodwork, but Archie knew without actual proof that it was still a far cry from this. This was spectacular... dreamlike in it's exquisite carvings and gold leafing, and even the most plain of things seemed amazing to the young lieutenant.  
  
With a half of a grin, despite aching feet, he tried to picture what James would be doing in his tiny cabin on the _Renown_. When he'd woken up on _Titanic_, he thought for a moment he had passed into the afterlife, with the new white walls, the bed rather than hammock, and above all the soft scents of a freshly cooking breakfast wafting up from decks below. Of course, then he'd decided to investigate the knocking down the hall, and the rest was history... no, the future. Wait, no, the...  
  
Laughing momentarily, Kennedy just shook his head at himself. Not in his wildest dreams (and he was a dreamer of the highest sort) had he imagined himself in a situation like this. There had been fantasies of the high life, perhaps, and of the stage, but never the decks of a steamer so large it's very size baffled him, let alone the thrum of engines and the lack of canvas above.  
  
Running his hands along the railing, he toyed with the thought of actually working on a ship like the _Titanic_ someday. He knew it would never happen, but the idea of such a luxurious ship was something he enjoyed purely for the moment. The thought of being able to have a hot meal at almost any hour, of standing in the shade of the Bridge on a hot day, or even just of the small cabin (still some larger and better appointed than his own) appealed to his above-common upbringing. He loved the ships he had worked on for the most part, but none had the outward comfort of _Titanic_.  
  
Smiling wistfully, he took a moment to lean on that railing, looking out over the water. His father, being a literary professor, had known his fair share of high society. Even though he had left home young, Archie could remember a few times he had been dressed up by his mother, and sent along with his father to have dinner at some contributor's house. He could remember clearly the polished silver cutlery, or the china, and occasionally the expensive furniture around the rest of those houses. That, perhaps, was what _Titanic_ reminded him of... of the life he'd not quite had, but certainly had a taste of.  
  
Not that he would have traded his family for anyone else's. It was his father who introduced him to Shakespeare, and a hundred other authors. Kennedy was reading near before he could walk, it seemed -- getting lost in a world made from words, the vivid imagination of the young creating scenes not unlike the ones he'd seen recently. As he looked back, he understood in some way why his father had chosen to get him into reading and rhyme... it served to keep him from getting into mischief, being the most fragile of the boys. Perhaps, had he not grown to love literature, though, right down to how each word had it's own particular flavour, he may have resented it. But he didn't.  
  
Lost in his own world at that moment, Archie tried to imagine how he might someday try to explain all of this to his family. His brothers would likely laugh at him, or maybe indulge in his wild stories of time travel. His mother would certainly ask if he'd been well, or if he'd been running a fever. His father... Kennedy grinned happily. If anyone would believe him, or at least not think him insane, it would be the man who'd already in quite some way influenced his life. They were the dreamers of the family.  
  
  
_"Archie? What are you doing?"  
  
"Making wings! I think I ought to fly, father."  
  
"Wings... a regular Icarus, are we?" That patient laugh, affectionate as ever.  
  
"But he flew too close to the sun. I think I'll keep myself to brushing the treetops."_  
  
  
Of course, his plans for flight gave way not long after to the idea of making his own human slingshot, which gave in turn to the simple thing of tree-climbing, all in one day. And he remembered that his father had given in to all of his crazy ambitions, going so far as to getting out copies of Da Vinci's diagrams of wings, and taking apart one of his quills to show the constructions of a feather.  
  
But in all reality and the present, none of them required as much movement as the Royal Steamer, and the short shift did nothing more than exhaust the younger man to the point that he was halfway asleep, leaning on the railing off to the side of the Bridge. He didn't know that nearly the same position was one that Lowe had been in the night before their meeting, nor did he know what lay ahead for him or his mates. He just slept, trusting in the railing, himself, and the fact that he believed everything would be all right.  
  
  
  
Harold came back awake of his own free will, which in itself was probably something to note down in history books. But even as he slept, he still concerned himself with Archie, with the _Titanic_ herself, and before long pulled himself from that nice, warm bunk. Rubbing at his eyes, he staggered through dressing with the sort of half-conscious percision of someone who's been wearing a uniform long enough to dress in near any condition. Then, heading back to the bathroom, he splashed himself with cold water and headed out on deck.  
  
Still donning his 19th century uniform, Archie had obviously given into the urge to doze off. Thankfully all he would get here would be a reprimand, and not a death sentence -- Lowe smirked to himself at the principle in itself. While he could understand wartime policies, some just seemed silly to him, being from this time. Not really wanting to wake Kennedy, he leaned against the rail beside him for a moment, still coming awake from the few hours of dead sleep. It promised to be another beautiful day.  
  
Lightoller joined them not long later, being the current Officer of the Watch. He looked between the two of them, a slightly tired and near affectionate smile crossing his face as he addressed Lowe with a quiet voice, "We've finally managed to round up a uniform that would fit him."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Harold replied, just as softly. It couldn't have been all that easy to do so -- where Horatio could fit into Harry's uniform, Archie was too stocky and short to borrow Jimmy's. "How'd you manage?"  
  
"Joseph's jacket, with some quick hemming, and a pair of Davy's trousers he'd left behind in my cabin closet," Lights chuckled, referring to Boxhall and the last-minute transferred Blair, taking up a spot beside Lowe. "It took some careful talking, but it's all set up."  
  
Harold smiled, despite himself. Part because it was somehow nice to hear a senior officer use their first names... of course, Lightoller had served with both of them on the _Oceanic_, and knew them well enough... and part because he imagined Archie would really appreciate the lighter nature of the White Star uniform. Reaching over, he tapped the acting-Sixth on the shoulder. "Archie?"  
  
Startled slightly by the tapping, the young lieutenant immediately bolted upright. In his mind, he was still on the _Renown_, and expected to hear a pistol sounding through the air. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, and when no sharp sound rang out, he opened one, then the other to look at his two superiors, a near bashful look on his face. "I'm sorry, sirs..."  
  
Charles sort of raised an eyebrow, once again wondering if this lad had some screws loose or not, but he didn't speak up. Harold, however, gave him a downright amused look, the Welshman's teasing streak making it's first appearance of the day. "A little jumpy, Mr. Kennedy? Why, if I were to cock a musket, I may have gotten you to actually jump the side."  
  
Giving a slight glare for only a moment, Archie then cleared his throat and straightened up. "Indeed, Mr. Lowe, you might have." Offering a downright infectious smile, he slipped his arms behind his back. "I'm glad you didn't."  
  
Chuckling, Lightoller nodded in agreement, looking between the two. "Myself as well after all that we've gone through to get Mr. Kennedy situated with a uniform of his own. Aside from that, another missing officer, acting or not, would be a hard thing to explain away."  
  
"That it would." Harold grinned himself, standing straight and squaring his shoulders to look at Archie. "Well, Mr. Kennedy, since we were quite deprived our meal on the _Renown_, would you care to join me for breakfast?" And looking at Lightoller, he added, "With your permission, of course."  
  
"By all means," Lightoller said, gesturing. Lowe was just coming on shift, and it would only be right to allow him to get something to eat before he had to head off for his duties. "Though I'd get properly attired first."  
  
"Absolutely!" The idea of hot tea, bacon, soft bread, butter, jam, eggs, and fruit had Lowe quite willing to rush Archie into changing so he could get down to the Officer's Mess, not giving him time to answer or even get a word in edgewise.  
  
"I left the uniform on the bed in Mr. Moody's cabin," Lightoller called after Harold, who was already dragging Archie off by his arm.  
  
  
  
Had Kennedy been given the time to think, he would have realized the time it took him to put on the twentieth century uniform was at least a third of what he was used to. From the white cotton shirt to the boots, he felt a new man. Light, with the ability to move much more agilely than he had before. Comfortable in the most genuine of terms, and quite a bit cooler.  
  
Grinning to himself, he stepped over to the small mirror in Moody's cabin, looking himself over. He didn't look bad in the new uniform, just different; thinner without three thick layers. Giving his hair a quick comb through, he tied it back -- certainly more strictly than he would have back home -- and stuffed it into his collar. Then, picking up the tie, he looked it over with a raised eyebrow before tying the long, thin thing as a cravat.   
  
Taking a deep breath, thinking himself to be quite a picture, he then opened the door and peeked his head out in an attempt to find Lowe, tugging at the tie lightly and muttering about how difficult it was to knot.  
  
He might not have understood why Harry just looked at him once up and down, and when his eyes settled on the quite unique tie-tying, he fell into laughter, shaking his head. Frowning slightly, squaring his shoulders, Archie gave the other man a look. "What...?"  
  
Lowe shook his head again, still laughing as he stepped over and unwound the tie. Finally, tying it in the proper knot, he slipped it back over Kennedy's head with a light chuckle, "It's just a little amusing, the quite fresh thoughts you have on ties." Grinning a bit, he tightened it neatly, then stepped back again. "Now you don't look like you're wearing a large black bandage around some gruesome neck wound."  
  
Raising two helpless eyebrows, Archie looked around a bit nervously before leaning in closer to Lowe. "I think I might have put my knickers on wrong then," he commented, quietly, then stood back, appraising Lowe's reaction. The Fifth Officer seemed a bit preplexed by the whole thought, stumbling over the words that were trying to come out of his mouth. Archie, however, allowed his face to melt into a grin as he gave a bit of a wink.  
  
Harold closed his mouth with a click, narrowing his eyes at Archie with a growl, "I thought you were serious! D'you do this sort of thing to Hornblower as well?" Muttering darkly (and without the slightest bit of real malice), he pointed at Moody's cabin, "Get your hat and come on... I want breakfast before I have to nursemaid you all day."  
  
Snickering, Kennedy let out a content sigh and traveled back through the doorway to retrieve his hat. "No, I think Horatio would have taken me as serious even after the wink." Placing the hat atop his hair, he then clasped his hands behind his back again. "Shall we, Mr. Lowe?"  
  
"We shall."  
  
The Mess was aft on the Boatdeck, starboard side, and once Lowe pulled Archie away from inspecting some odd or end, the smell took over and Kennedy needed no more coaxing. Lowe grinned a little himself, stepping into the near quiet Officers Mess, and tossing a wave to Boxhall as he went to grab a plate and throw his order back to the mess attendant in charge. "Two over-easy, bacon, and the biggest piece of steak you can steal."  
  
"Yessir," called back a reply, as Lowe went to getting his bread and that, all laid out on the table at the end of the Mess.  
  
Standing still near the doorway, Archie was nearly knocked over by the smells in the air. Everything took over all at once and he couldn't tell if he was smelling potatos or beef or vanilla. Blinking, he turned nearly a full circle before looking after Lowe. "I don't have any money... How can I pay for this?"  
  
"You don't," Harold said around a piece of bread in his mouth, which made it sound more like, "Y' domph."  
  
Jospeh gave him a faintly amused look, standing and offering his hand. "Joseph Boxhall... you must be the fellow taking over for Jimmy."  
  
Lowe looked up, eyes widening briefly. Just how much did Boxhall know? Shifting his almost full plate to his other hand, he took the bread out of his mouth, speaking slowly, "He's acting-Sixth, yes..."  
  
Grinning, Kennedy offered his hand to the Fourth Officer, jovially. "Archie Kennedy, and it's a pleasure!"  
  
Shaking the proffered hand, Boxhall nodded. "Well met." Taking a bite of the roll he'd had from his meal, he chewed and swallowed before continuing on, "Cunard, eh? I guess you gents have to pay for your meals; should be a thankful idea that you can eat everything you like here."  
  
"Certainly," Archie replied, going directly into the acting mode he had deemed so useful at that point. "I'd say that's the largest complaint the rest of the officers and I have, though."  
  
Lowe chuckled, relaxing somewhat now that a piece of the story had been established, and that once again the intrepid Mr. Kennedy had worked around it smoothly. Sitting down finally, he kicked back in the chair -- no sense in being formal in their own Mess.  
  
"James and his good luck," Joseph laughed, cleaning up his plate and silverwear. "Can you believe it?"  
  
"Scarcely," Harold replied, vaguely, hoping to draw more of the story out yet. He took to buttering one of the four slices of bread, listening.  
  
"I mean, I would have volunteered if I'd known all I'd have to do is sit and talk all day. Talk about an easy job." Boxhall stood, giving Archie a light grin. "No rush on getting the jacket back to me, and I'll see you on watch, all right?"  
  
"Yes, of course, and thank you for allowing me to borrow it," Archie added, before going about and getting his food.  
  
Nodded as he headed for the door, Boxhall called back, "Not a problem." It was only after he left that Kennedy let out a sigh of relief and traveled his plate full of fruits and breads to Harold's table, sitting across from him.  
  
"Wonder what Mr. Lightoller told him," Lowe murmured, looking after the Fourth Officer and waiting for his steak, bacon and eggs. "Might do to know the story, so we might at least leave a note or something for the other two should we switch about again."  
  
Chewing on a piece of pear, Archie nodded. "And so I know what story to converse with the others over."  
  
"Exactly." The call from the kitchen interrupted Harold in mid-thought, and with a mildly rabid look, he went and retrieved the steaming plate, juggling it slightly between his hands from the heat. He dropped it on the table with a faint hiss of pain, shaking his hands out. "Should probably let it cool before trying to eat it."  
  
"Just figured that out, did you?" Archie smirked, already a good way into demolishing his first really good meal in quite some time.  
  
Lowe didn't care to offer more than a mutter, sticking to his bread and jam while the plate cooled off. The brickish biscuits on the _Renown_ hadn't done much for him at all, particularly since he hadn't even gotten to try them, and all he'd had in quite some time was water. The steak was taunting him with its proximity, and before it was really cool enough to eat, he was busy cutting it with almost loving precision.  
  
Without even looking up, Kennedy commented to Lowe, "It's not surgery, doctor..."  
  
"No, it's food. Edible objects that you put into your mouth, chew, swallow, and don't talk about while performing the above tasks," Harold answered, smoothly, likewise trained on his plate.  
  
Shaking his head, Archie just figured it best to eat his meal instead of arguing over it. Sneakily, he reached his fork out and speared the piece Lowe had shaven off of his meat, stuffing it into his mouth greedily.  
  
Not one to have his much needed breakfast stolen, Lowe raised a challenging eyebrow at Kennedy. "Get your own meat, damn you, or I'll reciprocate by taking one of your fingers in exchange." Nodding smartly, he bowed his head again to hide the wicked grin on his face, and went back to his carving.  
  
"Live on dried meat for most of your life and then you can begrudge me, Mr. Lowe." Snickering, Archie went back to his own meal, happy to eat at what he had.   
  
"I'm not begrudging you, I'm simply saying that you can easily order a steak of your own, and have no need to steal mine from my plate," Lowe said, finally taking a bite of the meat and trying not to allow too blissful a look on his face.  
  
Nodding, Archie did nothing more than continue on with his meal, grinning halfway.  
  
  
  
  
Breakfast was over, and it was still cloudless out as Harold and Archie stepped out of the Mess to begin their duties for the shift. Full stomachs made for a cheerful disposition, and despite their friendly sniping across the breakfast table, Lowe had given in and shared his steak and bacon. He found he was beginning to think of Kennedy as a confident, somehow comfortable with his joking good humor, and though that was a somewhat different idea for the mildly nomadic Welshman, it was welcome in such bizarre circumstances. Afterall, it was the same type of joking mannerisms that made him look to Jimmy as a friend so quickly.  
  
Harold took a deep breath of the April air, such a far sight different from the Equatorial air that was on the _Renown_, and let it out slowly. It wasn't going to be easy, any of it, at any point. Not if he ended up back in 1801 again, and certainly not in trying to change _Titanic's_ fate. He knew that, accepted it, mentally complained for a minute or two, and then decided stalwartly to do the best he could. Looking over at Archie, he frowned for a moment in confusion, wondering what had caught the pup's attention so quickly and completely.  
  
Oh, so that was it! Looking past Kennedy, Lowe caught sight of a group of the first class women who had come out after breakfast, allowing a smirk to cross his face as he leaned over and said to the other man, "Relax, Kennedy, they're off limits to working blokes like us."  
  
Archie only mumbled something in reply. It had been a long time since he had seen ladies at that proximity, particularly ladies who were dressed as elegantly as these were. Afterall, a ship of war only goes into port on occasion, and those times are fewer and farther between than any merchant ship. He'd known men, common seamen, who hadn't seen their wives or any women since the beginning of the war, and being only twenty-three, despite a professional life of hardships, he was still at the age where women were quite the objects of desire and fantasy.  
  
Harold just shook his head, trying not to laugh outright. He could sympathize, but at the same time, he knew the facination would wear off when Archie had to deal with these women on a professional level -- a good many of them were downright disagreeable. There were so many times in his career that he'd just barely managed not to snap at them over a ridiculous complaint they had, be it about the service, or the accommodations, and though he didn't mind appreciating their looks, he felt no urge to deal with them in any way but the quickest and most efficient. "C'mon, you can gawp at them all you like later... right now, we've got a ship to tour."  
  
"But..."  
  
"_C'mon_," Harold chuckled, taking him under the elbow and dragging him off the other way. In that moment, he felt frighteningly like some sort of parent.  
  
"Did you see them? My Lord, they were stunning! Like the first blooms of Spring, or perhaps the--"  
  
"Ohhhh, wait until one of them starts complaining about their service, food, drink, bath tub, furnishings, deck chairs, a speck of dust on their new shoes..." Lowe shook his head in amusement. "You'll start thinking of them as harpies and witches before you know it."  
  
"I don't know," Archie said, doubtfully, casting a glance back over his shoulder in the direction of the ladies. One particular one noticed and gave him a smile, and he immediately turned around and started back towards them.  
  
"That gate marks the Engin--" Harold glanced over, then blinked and turned around in time to see Archie sidling up to the ladies on deck. He took a deep breath, sighed in resignation, and followed.  
  
It promised to be yet another long day.  
  
--------------------------------  
  
**Author's Notes: This chapter has been sitting for quite some time on my harddrive. The story itself will probably not see completion anytime in the near future, and even if we do pick it up again, you can bet that we're going to overhaul it and clean it up somewhat before continuing. Until then, I hope you enjoyed that we left off on a light note, and any comments, ideas, or thoughts you might have are eternally appreciated. Thank you!**


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